


The Right To Change

by carinatae



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime, Transformers: Rescue Bots, Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, Dubious Ethics, Gen, Government Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Interfaction Interaction, Minor Canonical Character(s), Multi, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-28 06:27:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 60,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7628590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carinatae/pseuds/carinatae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soundwave's message reaches its destination. Megatron finds his problems harder to deal with now that he can't beat them into the ground. And Bumblebee's not sure what exactly Optimus would do in this situation, but he's pretty sure it's not this.</p><p>Meanwhile on Cybertron, with the new regime the same as the old, a second rebellion quietly gets underway, with an unlikely set of leaders.</p><p> </p><p>(Updates veeery slowly)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Haunts and Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> _A conquering race, in the place of that conquest, is rarely amiable; the conquerors pay less obviously than the conquered, but perhaps in time they pay even more heavily, in the loss of the humane qualities._  
>  -Patrick O'Brian

He drifted through space, for how long he neither knew nor cared. Long enough for the last of the anger to drain away, the void in his spark chamber spreading out in place of emotions. His hate was still there in some capacity – he hated that he felt nothing, he hated the frame he had been cursed with, he hated the capricious god that had willed it so.

He had always been proud of what he had accomplished, by his own strength and will. He had taken the nothing that society had given him and turned it into greatness, by his own hand and none other's. But it was as if Unicron had glanced over the sum of his life and found him wanting, nothing more than a vessel to be changed. 

This ridiculous frame: too large, too impractical, too over-detailed, too impervious. No need to re-fuel or re-charge any longer. He couldn't even offline himself. Not even at full strength did his claws leave so much as a scratch on his plating, his spark guttered but never fully going out. He'd flown through the heart of a star just to see what would happen – not much, although that solar system hadn't been as fortunate. 

As if he had been too weak before, as if he had _needed_ a god's false strength forced upon him, neither claimed nor earned. 

Many times he had told himself as he drifted, it was not his fault. It was Unicron's fault for corrupting him, the dark energon's fault for sending him mad, Prime's fault for opposing him, Starscream's fault for never following a simple order, and Soundwave's fault for never questioning the insanity of his commands. It was all Orion Pax's fault for betraying him, so long ago.

“The one common factor in all my mistakes is myself.”

Even spoken directly into the vacuum, it felt like an admission of weakness. The surge of hatred carefully nurtured went cold again, flickering out back into listlessness. He had always just assumed that if he could only somehow beat the- the _Starscream-ness_ out of Starscream then he would actually have a capable second in command and heir. And he had mocked Unicron for not realising the punishment and the pain only strengthened his resolve to defeat him. He had not realised how the two views conflicted until he came to his senses in front of the AllSpark's reliquary with Starscream standing before him and finding out that their game was no longer one he could play.

Something was blinking on his HUD. It must have been there for a while he realised, having been far too lost in himself to pay attention to anything. An incoming message, the sender's ID corrupted. He considered going back to ignoring it, or just deleting it, before some vague sense of duty stirred him enough to open it. Then close it immediately as a garbled shriek of static filled his head.

Now ready for the noise, he replayed it. Underneath the alternating bands of static and silence there were traces of a message sent out on a loop, but he couldn't pick out any of the words apart from what might be 'await' halfway through. There was a final burst of noise on the end, that sounded more like blaster fire or an explosion than static. Then it repeated from the beginning.

Had he somehow accidentally intercepted it by passing through the path of the message as it bounced through space? The sender ID remained illegible and a personal, inbuilt comm-link didn't have all the different flags and data that a dedicated communications array like the one on the _Nemesis_ had. Nor was he an expert at decoding signals or transmissions – Soundwave had always been there to do it so he had never needed to learn.

The thought had brought his communications officer to the forefront of his memory cores, and it triggered another look at the information tagged to the recording. While he didn't have the name or location of the person who had sent it, he had the frequency it had been sent to. Not to any random channels, or even to any Decepticon ones, but to him. To his original personal hailing frequency, from before the war when he had changed it. Not even Starscream knew it, just Orion Pax, and Soundwave. And Orion Pax was dead. A chill was settling inside him, one not affected or caused by being in deep space.

He played the message again. The corruption in the data may have been caused by the time or distance it had had to travel before reaching him, or any number of things. That was definitely shots fired near the end right before it cut off. He couldn't now remember the last time he had actually _seen_ Soundwave before the end – right after he had left Cybertron for good he'd returned to Earth to look for him but there had been no Decepticon signals on the planet, so he'd assumed he'd been taken prisoner with the rest of the _Nemesis_ ' crew and executed for war crimes.

For the first time in a long time he found himself filled with a purpose. What he would do after he discovered Soundwave's fate he still didn't know but for now just feeling this much was enough. Maybe it was simply time he began going back for a fallen comrade, something he had stopped bothering with at some point in his life.

There were only two places Soundwave could be: Earth and Cybertron. Earth would be easier, less complicated. He'd start there.

Transforming still didn't bring that feeling of joy in freedom, in fact right now it was made difficult by disuse, but he did so anyway and accelerated in the direction of the Earth.

-

The ruins of Vos no longer smouldered, but the memories they brought back remained as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. Starscream picked his way through the wreckage of collapsed towers and eyries, a low monologue of his thoughts his only companion.

“ _This_ is what my life is reduced to not once but twice! Scratching around for scraps of energon.”

He hauled himself up on top of a pile of melted slag, awkward now with only one arm, and looked around with a sigh. Parts of the melted metal was smooth enough that he could see a distorted, pitiful reflection of himself. It buckled easily under his claws, he carved a series of glyphs right over it: ' _I still function_ ', an old gladiatorial victory chant turned Decepticon rallying cry.

Sneering at his reflection, he turned around, looking out over the pitted landscape. At the centre of what had been a city lay the base of the Winglord's spire, the only thing still with some semblance of structure. 

“Of course, the foundations _were_ strongest there because of the weight of the spire.”

The claws of his remaining hand stroked absently at the charred and bitten-off ruin of his other arm. The everpresent pain had settled down into a dull throbbing, but it spiked up again as he jostled a sensitive piece. He no longer had the fuel reserves for his self repair to work, but even then this injury would be beyond it.

“If Sky- if the _lower quarters_ are still intact, there may be supplies left. The walls were reinforced.”

His engine growled as he jumped down, landing heavily on slender legs not really made for the amount of walking he had been doing, wings flaring out for balance. He was angry at the stumbled landing, but angrier at his near slip of the tongue.

“Not that he'd care, even if he lived, I'm a scavenger in my own city, my own _home_.” A few stalked steps later and he snarled again.

“This is all Megatron's fault. _Great_ plan 'Master', just _leave_ and expect everyone else to clean up your mess, _brilliant job_ really.”

The sound of flight-engines pulled him abruptly from his reverie. He flinched downwards, scanning the sky desperately- _there!_ Darting between piles of rubble and wreckage, he moved towards the distant specks. Scaling the remains of the great wall that had once protected the borders of Vos was made difficult with his current injuries but not impossible – transforming to fly up there would make too much noise, use too much energy.

Starscream crouched low, peering through one of the gaps in the crenelations, his claws scratching little grooves in the metal as he fidgeted.

“Could be a trap.”

He could see them from this vantage point: three flight frames. He recognised Astrotrain in the middle, the smaller jets flanking him he didn't know. They were descending over what was left of Tarn, Vos's neighbouring city-state, circling down to land near a jumble of what had been a tower, the rusting spars obscuring his view.

“I doubt the Autobots are interested in rebuilding a Decepticon city. But why take Astrotrain unless to carry supplies. And who are those others.”

He pulled back, crouching down as low as possible, wings twitching in curiosity.

“They have no finesse, they fly like they were taught by grounders. _Definitely_ not Decepticons. What are they doing down there?”

Whatever they were doing, they were fully out of sight now, and he began to pace up and down, muttering to himself.

“If they brought supplies, they must have energon...”

He checked his fuel levels again – if he jumped down and walked there, he might have enough to fly back if chased, though not enough to fight back, even if they _were_ practically grounders with wings.

“Of course Astrotrain is unlikely to assist me, but maybe he won't help them either.”

Insatiable curiosity finally won out over caution, and he lowered himself clumsily over the edge, thrusters engaged just enough to prevent damage from hitting the ground too hard. The going was slightly easier now – unlike Vos, Tarn still had the semblance of streets – although there were less heaps of scrap to hide behind. Even so, by the time he had gotten to a vantage point where he could see and hear what was going on without being seen, he had missed most of what they were doing.

Astrotrain was still in alt-mode, crates and boxes being unloaded from his cargo hold by a pair of Vehicons and carried down a tunnel in the ground. One of the jets (and up close they really did look like newbuilds) was standing guard, the other one was presumably underground supervising whatever was going on there.

The strangest thing about this, he realised, was how quiet they all were. The Vehicons weren't surprising – no genericon would chatter while on duty. But the Autobot was quiet too even though it was clear by the downtilt of his wings how much he didn't want to be there. And Astrotrain... Starscream hadn't seen the triple-changer in a long time, long before the _Nemesis_ had ended up on Earth. But he knew that he hated being used as what he called a 'glorified cargo ship', and given that even Lord Megatron's presence hadn't been enough to stop him complaining in the past (even if it was just twitching his plating), it seemed odd that he was so still and silent now.

In fact Starscream would have taken him for a non-sparked shuttle if he hadn't recognised him as being a person he knew.

“What are they _doing_ down there?!”

The words had barely left his vocaliser before he realised he'd thought them out loud without meaning to after so long with no other company. Clamping his claws over his mouth he hunched down in as small a ball as possible to remain unseen. Luckily his outburst had coincided with the guard being hailed by his companion and the group got ready to leave.

“Everything's set up now, finally. No wonder the Council want him here instead of in Iacon, the creepy glitch.”

Having remained undetected, Starscream peeked back over – the Vehicons had been ordered back into Astrotrain's hold, the jet that had stayed outside on guard gave him a kick.

“Get moving.”

The shuttle's powerful engines roared, but only in an obedient take-off, doing as ordered.

“Come on, lets see what trouble Fireflight'll have gotten into while we were gone.”

The second jetformer shot into the air, followed by his friend, and the trio of aerials quickly dwindled back into the distance in the direction of Iacon. He watched them go, turning the situation over in his mind. Surely even as prisoners of war they would have reacted to a blow, if not physically then at least verbally.

“Oh well, not any of my business anyway. Now, what were you up to down here...”

The mouth of the tunnel was dark, but otherwise intact as far as he could see down it. Surprisingly so, for its location. It slanted down at a low angle, he couldn't see the end of it. The war had made him used to confined spaces, but they still filled him with trepidation. Especially now that he was alone, weak and vulnerable. Only the hope of fuel after so long pushed him forwards, heels tapping against the metal floor as he made his slow way down.

The patch of sky visible from the entrance was only a tiny square by the time it levelled out, they were probably somewhere under the centre of the city by now. His wings pulled further in as he fought the urge to run. The tunnel ended in a sharp ninety-degree turn, and from around it he could hear noises of something large moving around.

Slowly, carefully, he peeked round the corner just enough for one optic to see the room's occupant.

“Oh. Well, I should have known it would be _you_.”

-

The planet was as he remembered it – still that Autobot shade of blue mixed with white. Entering the atmosphere at speed barely affected him, only a slight scorching of the thinner plating where his armour swept up into spikes. It didn't take long before the natives were riled up, sparkless planes following after him in a cloud, worse than drones due to the organic inside each one.

He pinged Soundwave's frequency with no response, repeating it every klick or so as he quartered the globe. Main Decepticon frequencies, both public and private, met with the same silence. He began simply scanning for his life sign, circling and re-circling ocean and land, faster and faster, but Soundwave's signal was not there.

Not online, not offline, not out of range, just _gone_. As if he did not exist.

With a snarl of powerful engines Megatron banked round, avoiding a further salvo of missiles. The humans were really starting to irritate. Instinct triggered his firing protocols, but to no effect. Thanks to his 'upgrade' he no longer had his fusion cannon or even his swordblade, nor did he have the ability to summon dark energon weapons now that Unicron was sealed.

He widened the search as he flew, first to any Decepticon signal, then to any Cybertronian before he finally got a response. Autobots presumably, but it stood to reason that they would know. Surging forwards he hit his top speed, leaving the current group of human far behind. The ocean whipped by underneath him, a blurry fuzz on the horizon resolving into a coastal city.

He moved into the cloud cover to pass over it, decelerated to try and get a clearer fix on the Autobot's transmissions without any equipment to do so with. There, in a rural area beyond the city, a clearing filled with various tech, human junk, and a pair of frantically running Autobots.

Transforming mid-air, he dropped into their midst and snagged a little orange mini-con in his claws as he rose from his half-crouch, hauling it up to eye level.

“ _Where is Soundwave?!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is the first fanfiction I've written in about 10 years, and the first Transformers thing ever. Sorry for any out of character-ness and my godawful writing style!
> 
> Quick note about canon - I only really know the cartoons and the MTMTE comics, so that's where I'm pulling characterisation from for people who haven't shown up in TFP/RiD15 (for example Lugnut and Strika's team are pretty much lifted directly from Animated.) - I know there's some tie-in TFP video games with backstory etc but I haven't played these so I'm making those bits up. I guess this counts as an AU?
> 
> This starts at the end of season 2 of RiD15, and is the same undefined amount of time in the future for Rescue Bots (assuming that this runs alongside TFP chronologically).
> 
> More character tags / alternate tags etc will be added as we progress - please let me know if something needs tagging I'm new to this system :)


	2. Still Am I King Of Those

It was another comparatively quiet day at the 'Vintage Salvage Depot for the Discriminating Nostalgist'. With the _Alchemor_ in safe hands and off-world, the team had found themselves with a lot more downtime for relaxing, learning about Earth culture and history, and seeing the sights without being shot at.

Drift was seizing the opportunity to broaden his student's horizons, Bumblebee was more than happy to show them more of his adopted homeworld, and Strongarm had accompanied them, eager to learn new things as well. The five of them had groundbridged out yesterday, and were currently somewhere in the American Southwest.

It wasn't a completely quiet day, however, as both Sideswipe and Grimlock had stayed behind with Fixit, and while Sides was happy watching TV with Russell, Grimlock was 'assisting' Denny by rearranging a large pile of tyres into several smaller piles while he helped Fixit over at the command centre.

The tranquil atmosphere was abruptly shattered when the console bleeped an alarm, one that they hadn't expected to hear for a while – detection of a Decepticon life-signal. Fixit tried to bring it up on the main screen for more information and location, only to get a 'not found' error – it had disappeared again.

“Hmm.”

“Maybe a false alert?”

“I'm not cure--pure- _krzzzzt_ -sure!”

“Huh. Maybe we should see if it comes back before contacting Bee? I'd hate to ruin his vacation if it's just acting up.”

Nodding in agreement, Fixit set it to do a wide range scan. Their tech was a bit more stripped down now as the _Alchemor_ had required most of it back to be flight-worthy, but it should still be able to pick up signals on the same hemisphere, and they'd downloaded the list of the _Alchemor's_ prison manifest as well as the public and security records of other at-large Decepticons.

“Daaad!”

Russell ran over, Sideswipe following behind him.

“Dad, come look at the TV! There's an emergency broadcast on, UFO sightings all over the world.”

“We think it might be a bunch of Decepticon troops that just arrived or something.”

The console chose that moment to beep again and they all crowded round, the huddle attracting Grimlock as well.

“Getting a signal in Paris, no, Rome, no – Cairo... whatever it is it's moving fast or there's more than one.”

The signal flickered out again, returning another error.

“Looks like either they're blocking us somehow or the scan data keeps coming back corrupted for some reason... I'll call the others.”

He pulled Bumblebee's commlink up, getting an immediate answer.

_-“Hey Fixit, you guys want to join us?”-_

“Hi lieutenant – we have a situation here.”

Bumblebee's voice immediately turned serious, the noise of engines in the background dying away as he stopped to listen.

_-“What's happening?”-_

“We're picking up a strange signal, but when I try to scan it all I get is corrupted data-”

“And there's something buzzing cities across the globe, the news said an emergency meeting of the UN is being called,” Russell piped up.

_-“Okay, Fixit, you need to-”-_

But no one heard the rest of his sentence, Death dropping from the sky like a thunderbolt among them.

-

“-bridge us back right now. ...Fixit? Are you there? Fixit!”

Bumblebee's engine howled frustration as he transformed back into alt and tore off, leaving the road to cut cross-country. Caught offguard by his sudden burst of speed, the others were slow to catch up over the rocky desert ground. It was very rough going, but Strongarm's alt-mode was more suited to it than a racer and she soon drew level with Bee.

“Sir, you can't just drive all the way back, we're on the opposite side of this country!”

“I know, but I can't just sit here!”

They each lapsed into silence as they drove. There were many explanations for what was happening, each one worse than the last. It could just be a group of 'cons that had stumbled across Earth, or a warship that had picked up Soundwave's transmission and who's crew thought this was a Decepticon-controlled planet. That was, after all, why they'd decided to stay, just in case. No one wanted to voice the final possibility, no matter how unlikely, in case it somehow made it real. 

_'It all depends on what was in the message, and how much he managed to get out before we stopped him... There's no way it's him, he has to be light-years away, there's no way he's back, please...'_

His train of thought was interrupted by another incoming call. Quickly patching Drift and Strongarm back in, he answered it desperately.

“Fixit are you okay?!”

_-“B-Bee?”-_

“Russell! What's going on there? Are you okay?”

_-“I don't know! This guy just- just fell out of the sky, gave Fixit a heart-attack. Grim and Sides are trying to take him down b-but he's really big and-”-_

“Russell, I need you to listen to me. I'm transmitting our coordinates, I need you to bridge us back. Can you do that?”

_-“I- y-yeah, hang on.”-_

After the longest couple of seconds of his life, a groundbridge portal flickered into existence in front of them.

“Alright, try and take him down from range if possible. Keep your distance.”

They readied their weapons and ran through.

The scrapyard materialised in front of him, and there, standing over a prone Grimlock, no longer the utilitarian gunmetal-grey frame that still haunted his nightmares, but still one he immediately recognised.

“MEGATRON!”

Charging forwards Bee opened fire, as did Strongarm as she flanked him. Drift, Slipstream and Jetstorm circled the other way, trying to get between him and Grimlock. The plan was to try and drive him back, get him surrounded and on the defensive. It was a good plan, as plans go, one that Team Prime had used to good effect in the war. But it wasn't one that took into consideration the presence of Sideswipe.

With a whoop, the red speedster shot round from where he'd landed after being previously tossed, and leapt at Megatron, transforming out of alt in midair to grapple him from behind.

Time seemed to stall, their movements coming slowly as Megatron turned around, not reacting to the blasterfire at all as he instead reached out and caught Sideswipe by the neck with one arm, the other curling up, claws reaching for his spark.

They closed on empty air, forcibly clenched tight, and Megatron slowly lowered Sideswipe back down, setting him on the ground before stepping away.

“Enough. I did not come here to fight.”

Bumblebee moved cautiously towards him, motioning for the others to keep their distance.

“Sure looks like that's exactly what you did. Seems your word is as untrustworthy as ever.”

Megatron's lip curled up, fangs bared, and he took a threatening step towards him.

“I no longer intend to conquer this planet, that doesn't mean I won't defend myself.”

He glanced over to where Sideswipe and Strongarm were helping Grimlock back up.

“Besides, had I wanted to kill any one of you, they would already have been terminated.”

“Alright, lets assume for the moment that I believe you. What are you doing here?”

“I received a message from-”

“Soundwave. What did it say?”

Oddly he looked almost tired, before anger at being interrupted showed on his face instead.

“I don't know. The file had corrupted, I assume from the distance it travelled to reach me, and the changes made to my frame, He's here on Earth then, where is he?”

“If you find him, what do you intend to do?”

“I don't know. Leave with him. I have no wish to stay here.”

Bumblebee watched him, arms folded over his chestplates. To take Megatron at his word would be extremely foolish, not to mention potentially lethal, but all his anger and posturing felt more like a mask of how he thought he should react, rather than actual emotions. He'd been inside Megatron's mind, he knew how Megatron thought. There was no longer any fire behind his threats. Ignoring a shocked _“Lieutenant what are you doing!”_ from over his shoulder, he nodded.

“Okay. **But** , you're going to stand there and you're not going to move or talk, and if you so much as _look_ at Russell or Denny then so help me I will rip out _your_ voicebox.”

The ghost of a smile twitched over his face briefly, fangs gleaming, and he nodded his head in a mocking bow.

“Your terms are accepted, warrior.”

-

“Starscream.”

Shockwave inclined his head slightly in greeting, unfazed by the seeker's poor reaction to his presence. Starscream stalked forwards, wings hiked up aggressively, and gestured to the gleaming red badge on his purple chassis.

“What are you doing with _that_.”

“Agreeing to Autobot demands gives greater freedom of movement, and allows a more efficient work environment. The badge itself is immaterial, only the results matter.”

“You're seriously saying that you agreed to be an Autobot, they believed you _and they're _letting you near a lab?!_ ”_

“A list of 21 laboratory locations and all non-essential sub-projects proved convincing. I estimate that the tasks demanded will not impact my productivity significantly, in preparations for Lord Megatron's return.”

Starscream looked around, noticing that they were in fact in one of the aforementioned no-longer 'hidden' labs, and sat rather theatrically on one of the unopened crates cluttering the floor.

“That's your plan is it? Sit around in a hole making more monstrosities until Megatron remembers you exist again? Surprise, Shockwave, he isn't coming back this time and _he doesn't care!_ ”

His voice echoed back and forth from the metal walls, having risen to a shriek at the end of his sentence. As usual, Shockwave did not react to his outburst, instead continuing to unpack equipment from the boxes.

“Until the veracity of your claim can be confirmed, being considered useful by the Autobot Council remains the most-”

“Logical, yes yes, I know. ...Do you have any energon?”

Shockwave's single optic contracted and expanded slightly, in what passed for amusement for him, and motioned to the crate Starscream was sitting on.

“Ah.” He hopped off, fumbling with the lid.

“Your movements are made more erratic by your frame's lowered efficiency. I suggest you-”

“Oh _really_ Shockwave, it's a good thing you're here, I really needed your scientific expertise to know that my performance is affected by me _missing an arm!_ And anyway, it was _your_ pet that attacked me, so it's _your_ fault.”

Kicking the crate over solved the problem of getting it open, and he snagged one of the cubes that tumbled out, piercing the cap with the claw on his thumb and chugging it. He tapped at the sides of the empty cube as he watched Shockwave work, adding different concoctions to a half-formed petrorabbit clone floating in a vat of liquid. The fuel flooded through him, red warnings and alerts on his HUD finally starting to clear. 

“This lab of yours. Is it being monitored?”

“Correct. All electronic equipment usage is logged, and my physical location is determined by a cerebro implant. However, the visual and audial surveillance equipment would not interface correctly with my own security systems and were abandoned after trial.”

Starscream nodded, relaxing again after hearing there were no cameras. Although the fact that no one had burst in and arrested him would also be evidence for that, he supposed. 

“There's a tracking device in your head?”

“Correction – a modified I/D chip. The explosive charge was considered too unsafe for a laboratory environment. I am however working on a way of disabling fully functioning ones so they may be removed, when the time comes.”

“I presume Astrotrain has a 'functional' one then? And the others?”

“Any who do not pass the Decepticon Re-Integration Act, in order that their skills may still be put to use 'for the good of Cybertron'. I suspect those that did pass are simply being monitored more remotely.”

“So... those jets that were accompanying Astrotrain. They are...?”

“Autobots. There was an aerial gestalt in the first wave of newsparks after Cybertron was revitalised. A thorough study should have been carried out on determining why any full-flightframe gestalt was ever recorded as existing before the war, and what has changed to allow it, however my request was denied.”

“There's a new gestalt? An aerial gestalt?! Being made to serve this new Senate or whatever they call it! That is _appalling!_ ”

“Council. However some previous Senators do maintain seats.”

“ _Really._ ”

Shockwave set down his tools, moving over to his desk and picking up a datapad. His voice had a slight edge of testiness to it now.

“Giving you a full history of the last five years will negatively impact my estimated completion dates. This datapad has access to the DataNet, however recall that all usage including search terms is being recorded.”

Starscream took it, holding it by the corner with his claw tips and looking even more displeased.

“You expect me to use this with only one hand?”

“I am sure that such a trial is not beyond your capabilities. While a medic remains preferable, I may be able to construct a rudimentary substitute that will allow you limited grasping capability.”

There was a small silence between them. It was not exactly a peace offering, more a temporary cease-fire, but Starscream knew how to be grateful when he wanted to be.

“Very well, I will let you get on with your work.”

He sat again, propping the pad up on a pallet so he could use it, and began looking up newscasts. Shockwave resumed his own work, turning the power to his audial sensors down by about half when Starscream began thinking out loud without realising, arguing with whatever he was reading. It became a background murmur, one he was now used to working in.

-

As Bumblebee passed through the fluctuating ground bridge, he felt the familiar prickle run through him. He was out of phase with the world again, surrounded by that strange half-light and echoing silence. He stepped forwards, scanning for any sign of Soundwave's presence, not realising how close he was until he tripped straight over him almost immediately.

The Decepticon spy-master lay in a tangle of limbs right in front of the groundbridge. It didn't look like he had moved from where he had landed after they'd thrown him back in. Bumblebee knelt to inspect him hurriedly, venting in relief as he realised he had just fallen into stasis-lock rather than offlined, although it was a near thing. He didn't trust Megatron's apparently new-found level of patience to last past being told his communications officer had died waiting for him. 

Hauling him up into a semi-sitting position Bee began to drag him back through the bridge. The movement was enough to jostle Laserbeak from its precarious position halfway in the docking port on Soundwave's chest, neither having the energy left to hold onto each other. He picked the drone up, wondering if it was worth leaving it there. That would even the field somewhat if the Decepticons turned round and attacked them after being re-united.

Then again, the data Fixit had pulled up on Soundwave _had_ listed it as a minicon... And Soundwave _had_ always seemed overprotective of what was 'supposed' to be a non-sparked drone... Bumblebee rubbed a hand over his faceplates in a gesture he'd unconsciously picked up from the humans.

“I can't believe we didn't notice that before,” he sighed, pulling Soundwave one-handedly back into the real world, Laserbeak cradled awkwardly in his other arm.

Once back in the real world, Fixit shut off the groundbridge and hurried over with a medical scanner Ratchet had left with them.

“Lets see... his energon levels are...” he banged the side of the screen. “Either the scanner is broken or-”

“Or he doesn't have any. He must have been running on fumes when we fought him, no wonder he was so...”

Fixit had already wheeled off for a cube, Russell taking his place and peering down at Soundwave's prone form. In the full light of day, the biolighting that ran down his frame were invisible, the pulses either not glowing bright enough, or not at all.

“Sooo... how does he eat without a face?”

“He – er, hmm...”

Bee crouched down, running a digit along the sides of his visor, muttering to himself. _“Maybe there's a latch...?”_ He glanced up as the ground vibrated under him – Megatron was stomping over.

“Russell, go and wait over there with Denny please.”

“Hey, I'm an important member of this team!”

“I know, and you were indispensable when taking Soundwave down, but he's not going to know what's going on when he wakes up, and he will lash out – you might get hurt. The rest of the team is stood back as well.”

Russell frowned but nodded. He wasn't stupid enough to think he was as durable as his Cybertronian buddies. He scurried back to Denny, Sides and Jetstorm and Slipstream, everyone watching closely as Megatron knelt alongside Bee.

He hauled Soundwave up easily with one arm, leaning him back against his chest. Carefully, he scraped his clawtips down his side where his sparse plating gave way to bare protoform, digging gently into the port where a data cable was stored. Shifting his grip, he tugged out the tip, the cable unspooling slowly and lying limply on the ground beside him. Like the rest of his biolights, the lighted bands around each ringed segment were dark – it was only that his frame had not greyed out that made him look alive.

“Give it here.”

He held his other hand out for the energon cube, Fixit glancing at Bee first before handing it over. Megatron braced Soundwave against his shoulder, then unsealed the cube and teased out the sensory feelers retracted within the cap of the main cable, dipping them into the energon.

“You've done this before.”

Bumblebee sat down next to them, watching interestedly. Megatron did not bother to spare him a glance. It took him a while to respond – this was not a conversation he had ever thought of himself having.

“Soundwave has previously considered certain duties to have a higher priority than the needs of his frame.”

The little click of the auxiliary intake within the cable opening dropped loudly into the awkward pause. Megatron fussed with the positioning of the cube, frowning. To ask the question would be to admit ignorance, which had been a dangerous thing when keeping control of the Decepticons. However, his debilitated condition went far beyond simply working for a week straight without recharging...

“That was not a regular groundbridge portal your little medic opened. Where had you imprisoned him?”

 _'What did you do to him?'_ hung unspoken between them.

“Oh, right, you wouldn't have known about that. The last time I was on Earth, we found out that if two groundbridge portals overlap, then they open a gateway to this... alternate dimension. R- My friends used it to trap him inside while we were- you know. He's kinda been there ever since, until we got our groundbridge working a few months ago and he got out. That was when he sent that message off, before we managed to get him back in.”

“Death would have been kinder.”

“And this conversation would be extremely more awkward if we had killed him instead.”

Pulling a leg up to rest his arms on them, Bee glanced at the energon cube. The fluid levels didn't look like they'd gone down at all. He settled down to watch the sunset, the rest of his team going about their own business on the far side of the scrapyard, the three of them left in a little bubble of peace.

“You can stay here until he's fully fit to travel. Take as long as you need.”

“As your prisoners?”

“Hah, well I'd say guests, but that would be up to Denny really. But seriously, the war is over, I'm pretty sure you're not stupid enough to start it up again after what happened, so. If the others agree, it's fine. I'll have a meeting about it in the morning.”

_'And this is my fault for not remembering he was there back when the Re-Integration Act got passed. No one deserves to starve to death, not even Soundwave.'_

-

Refuelled, refreshed, Starscream felt ready to take on the world. Okay so he still only had one arm but at least his self-repair was fixing what it could, and it didn't hurt any more!

He circled down, wheeling over the remains of Vos. The city was circular, with the Winglord's Spire as the hub and the Great Wall running unbroken round the outside. They had been so proud of their walls, never breached and never conquered. Even back before the Golden Age, Vos had never fallen and had joined the planet-wide Senate rule with negotiations instead of surrendering – it had retained much of its own laws, customs and individualism.

Even when Megatron had expressed concern at the possible consequences if the city declared for the Decepticons with its close proximity to Iacon, he had laughed. His city was untouchable: Vos had never fallen, so it could never fall.

The majority of the population had died when the Senate had opened fire, the bombardment shelling Vos into the ground while leaving its walls unscathed. Their firebombing Praxus in retaliation did nothing to heal the wound, only creating new ones. 

“I will not let that happen again.”

Landing once more by the stump of his former home, he began to clear through the rubble. Because of their size compared to other flightframes, shuttles were usually housed on the lowest floor of whichever eyrie they lived in, where the wide bases gave them more room. Skyfire had been happy to stay in Starscream's quarters whenever he visited though, so they'd converted what would have been his rooms into a lab and research centre so he didn't have to spend so much time at the Academy.

Slowly he managed to uncover the ground supply door – it did not open to hs access codes of course as there was no power, but he was recharged enough that it was no problem at all to blast a hole through which he could enter.

Once inside he might have been transported back in time, apart from the non-functioning lights and the thick layers of rust covering everything, it was as he remembered. Now-obselete laboratory and computer equipment filled the shelves and tables, put neatly away to await their owner's return.

“Not that that will happen. Who knows, maybe he'd be happy it's being used again.”

Moving carefully in the dark, he manoeuvred round half-seen obstacles towards the storage room in the back. The energon refiner was still there, as far as he could tell it seemed intact. 

“Maybe there's still some raw crystals somewhere, need to get the power working first.”

Feeling around in the corners, he even found a couple of sealed cubes and, more importantly, his old secret stash of high-grade – probably the one location Skywarp hadn't managed to sniff out before the war.

He took a cube back into the main room where there was more light from the hole he'd made, cleared a space to sit and took a cautious sip. Still good – stronger than he remembered, even. Knocking back more of it, he felt a pleasant buzzing spread outwards through his frame from his fuel tanks. It was nice to just sit and relax, if he ignored the neglect of his surroundings he could almost pretend the last four million years had been a bad dream, that he was waiting in the dark to surprise Skyfire coming back home from one of his trips.

“Maybe I would even tell him this time.”

He grimaced and sipped more high-grade, chasing away the maudlin thoughts. Instead, he turned his processor towards the information he'd read at Shockwave's lab, and what the other had told him.

“It _is_ somewhat galling that after all this, some of the old Senators survived. How convenient for them the Autobots were never good at cutting out corruption.”

Shockwave had mentioned a loophole that they had exploited to claim places on this new 'Council' without having been elected to it. He wasn't an expert on laws, especially not grounder laws that did not affect Vos, but if that loophole applied to all members of the Senate before the war, then it technically applied to him too.

One of the tenants of Vos joining Iacon's rule was that the current, and all future, Winglord be given a voice on the newly-forming Senate with all the rights and privileges of a Senator. Something that his predecessor had put to good use in protesting the treatment of flightframes during the energy crisis.

“Probably why they had him assassinated. Of course, then they got me, more fool them.”

He cackled, re-sealing the cube and curling up to recharge. Maybe it was the three-quarters of the cube of high-grade running through his fuel-lines doing the thinking right now, but it sounded like a sensible plan.

“By Vosian law I am still Winglord, I can use this – that gestalt _deserves_ their heritage – they can't change it to stop me without losing the benefit themselves – I need more support, an army – need someone who understands legal technicalities – ”

He slid into recharge with his thoughts running over and through each other, still curled up on the table, wingtips twitching contentedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starscream and Shockwave are such pains to write.
> 
> Next time, we catch up with some more people on Cybertron, and Soundwave has a confusing day.


	3. Painted Red to Fit Right In

The lights of Iacon were behind them now, the mix of pre- and post-war architectures giving way to stretches of rubble and construction zones. There wasn't much other traffic on the expressway at this time, which was lucky as their progress was a little slower than it should be. 

Ultra Magnus, like the others who had fought on Earth, had kept his Earth alt-mode which was better suited to driving over tarmac or dirt rather then metal, preferring to keep the reminder of their time there over the slight inconveniences. A similar reason had led to him keeping his claw even though Ratchet had offered to replace it with a proper hand before he had left the planet.

Ratbat fluttered above him, the beastformer's wings designed more for quick changes in direction than brute speed in a straight line. Behind them was the reason for this trip, still unused to travelling in alt, a little black and purple four-wheeler with a Praxian build. 

The expressway kept curving up over the broken terrain of the planet below as they left it, turning off and following the ramp down to the boundaries of one of the first Torus-Cities to have finished reconstruction. Cybertron's pale sun gleamed off of shining metal and glass, a proud beacon compared to the desolation that still encompassed most of the planet.

As they rounded the corner to the first Enforcer station in a newly rebuilt Nyon, he could see Bluestreak in front of it with a pair he didn't recognise – one green and chunky enough to be a triple-changer, the other a little red speedster – chiding them with a lecture that Ultra Magnus knew for a fact Bluestreak had heard repeatedly when he'd been their age, and getting much the same reaction that he himself'd given Prowl.

The grinning stopped when he pulled over and transformed, looming over them. Everyone abruptly straightened up, Bluestreak's doorwings flicking up in a salute before settling in a mostly-still parade rest.

“Troublemakers?”

“No sir, everything's fine. Prowl's waiting for you all inside.”

Ultra Magnus nodded, heading in after Ratbat who had already entered without acknowledging the others. The pair of newsparks stared after him wide-eyed – one of the heroes of their history vids come to life, as it were.

“He's even taller in real life,” one of them whispered, sounding more than a little starstruck.

“You two can go, but no more racing after curfew.”

“Yes sir, no sir,” they chorused and ran off, irrepressible good natures already returning.

“And don't run in a pedestrian area!” He yelled after them.

“Sorry sir!”

Entering after the others, Bluestreak moved round to stand next to Prowl, both at attention as Ultra Magnus began explaining the reason for the meeting.

“The Council have voted in favour of screening all emergences from the Well for any 'Decepticon-like tendencies', and having roles chosen for them that would most keep them under control.”

“-That would allow them to contribute to society in the best fashion, while keeping any unsavoury habits they may pick up in check.” Councillor Ratbat corrected sharply. 

Prowl took the datapad, scanning through it rapidly with Bluestreak reading over his shoulder, mouth going from a flat line to an actual frown. 

“This list inherently penalises warframes and aerialframes, among others.”

“The majority of which fought as Decepticons, yes. In any case, one of our current candidates we feel would be best suited to Enforcer work and after all, you have been repeatedly petitioning for more staff-”

“I requested Jazz.”

“-who as you have been informed _multiple times_ , is currently being detained for aiding and abetting a known criminal of the state, and as this happened off-world it does not fall under your jurisdiction in any manner.”

Doorwings rigidly held at the correct angle and level for speaking with his superiors, no matter his personal feelings on that statement, Prowl turned to Ultra Magnus instead.

“I fail to see how destruction of museum property or kidnapping, however criminal the acts themselves, makes Lieutenant Bumblebee an 'enemy of the state'. And Jazz has never displayed any 'Decepticon tendencies' that do not also correspond with being ex-SpecOps.”

“ _Ex_ -Lieutenant Bumblebee activated an unauthorised spacebridge and travelled to a prohibited planet for purposes of sedition.”

Prowl ignored him, attention still fixed on Ultra Magnus. He knew, and Prowl knew he knew, that they were trumped-up charges, however the Council displaying a unified front on matters such as security and public safety was important. He made a mental note to check into it more later, and shook his head slightly at Prowl.

“Drop it, Captain.”

Prowl's doorwings twitched once involuntarily before he forced them still, Bluestreak's were less subtle about his own disappointment and wilted down. Rather irritated that they had accepted Magnus' order while arguing back at him, Ratbat tugged the newspark forwards with a hand on his shoulder, gripping tighter than was strictly necessary.

“ _Regardless_ , you have been assigned one of the first batch tested under this new system. I trust he will not get up to any trouble under your tutelage.”

Bluestreak opened his mouth in protest but before he could say anything Prowl cut him off, simultaneously sending him a warning ping on their personal comm.

“Designation?”

Addressed for the first time, the newspark looked up, his own doorwings fluttering uncertainly. He looked very similar to Prowl, save for having purple where the Enforcer Captain had white paint. He also looked extremely young, barely out of the Well. It was unlikely he even knew what Decepticons were, nevermind why he was being treated as one. His voice squeaked nervously.

“Barricade, s-sir.”

“We'll leave you to become _acquainted_ with your new team member. Come, Councillor Magnus.”

Ratbat swept out, Ultra Magnus vented a sigh at his companion's almost unconscious offensiveness, and rested a hand on Barricade's shoulder gently.

“Do your best, soldier.”

He returned Prowl's salute and followed Ratbat out, leaving the three to stare at each other in varying states of misery. The silence was broken before it could grow more awkward, as Bluestreak threw up his hands and slumped back into a chair.

“This is _so_ unfair.”

Outside, Magnus didn't even have time to transform before a lithe blue frame stepped over from where she'd been waiting, gesturing in greeting.

“Can I have a word with you, Councillor Ultra Magnus? Privately.”

Ratbat gave an annoyed huff and fluttered off. Arcee waited until he was out of earshot before gesturing to the road. They transformed and headed off, conversing quietly as they drove side by side.

“The elections are soon, have you given them any thoughts?”

“As I have mentioned before, I'd rather get work done than spend all my time in empty public speeches.”

The two-wheeler's engine purred quiet agreement, at odds with her next statement.

“The thing is, sir, that you're not the most... approachable of people. Public approval isn't that high, compared to some of the others who keep running their mouths. I think you might need to modify your approach.”

“Meaning?”

“Things like opposing the amendments to the re-integration act, calling for the rebuilding of cities that supported the Decepticons – it's being used against you in the newscasts. The resentment of 'war-time thinking' is growing too.”

“The creation of a just society is not 'war-time thinking'. And the pre-war actions of many on the Council is how we ended up here in the first place.”

“ _I_ know that, but that's not how they spin it to the civilians. Don't get me wrong, I'd prefer it if every single 'con got thrown in a smelter for what they did, but, the Senate wasn't exactly a paragon of equality either. The thing is, a lot of people remember that less than they remember our war destroying the planet, and they blame both sides.”

“I am aware. You think I am the next target after Ratchet?”

“You're the only one of Team Prime left with any political clout.”

“But not the only Autobot. And many of the Councillors who remained neutral during the war show their support as well. I have faith that the people of Cybertron will judge on actions not words.”

Knowing he wouldn't be fully convinced, Arcee dropped it. The traffic had picked up as they neared Iacon's centre, enough that their conversation wasn't safe.

“Lets hope so.”

-

Systems onlining straight into a hangover, Starscream rolled over with a hiss and rubbed at stiffened joints. 

“Stupid stupid stupid...”

Keeping his optics off, he relied on the sensor relays along his wings to navigate as he stumbled back into the darker end of the lab, feeling around in the storage closet for a cube of actual energon this time. He sipped at it cautiously, remaining in a half-crouch with his wings flared up for balance as he didn't have a spare arm to support himself.

He didn't remember high-grade having affected him this badly before, then again he didn't remember how long it had been since he'd even had any – the resources hadn't been there for luxuries during the war. Memories of the night before were filtering back in now, and even though it hurt to think right now, they still seemed like plausible ideas.

“And really why shouldn't I? Just need to play this one right.”

Feeling a bit less like he was going to purge all over the floor, he unshuttered his optics and performed a more thorough supply count. Excluding the high-grade there was only enough cubes left for two more days. But Shockwave had more than enough for himself, surely. And the scientist had practically promised him a new arm.

It was slower going than the first time, even though he knew where the entrance was now, but he really didn't feel up to flying right now, hauling himself over the rubble and wall. It was unlikely that the Autobots would be back so soon after checking on Shockwave but he kept a look out anyway, only relaxing when he reached the tunnel to the concealed lab.

Shockwave didn't look surprised to see him again, as much as Shockwave looked like _anything_ anyway. Instead he gestured to a stack of notes, and handed Starscream a datapad.

“I have found some translation work for you, if you wish to keep my assistance.”

“Good morning to you too.”

He took the datapad and glanced over the stack. The familiar scrawl filling the pages made him freeze, voice hissing suspiciously.

“These are _Thundercracker's._ ”

“Correct. I do not have time to decipher his codes, as I am now doing you this 'favour'.”

Starscream looked back down at the stack, expression darkening. 

“If this is some sort of- ...these aren't encoded. He just had terrible writing.”

“Then I trust you can type them out into a more legible format.”

“What part of missing an arm did you not understand the first ten times, and I _can_ tell when you do that!”

Shockwave had obviously dialled his audios down again after giving the impatient Seeker something to occupy him, carefully soldering something that required his full concentration. Starscream debated kicking him, before deciding against it. Discretion was the better part of valour after all.

Balancing the datapad Shockwave had given him earlier on his knee, he settled the stack of notes next to where he was sat, with the first one propped up where he could easily read while typing. Okay, so apart from looking like they'd been written by a turbofox, they also used some shorthand terms that Thundercracker had made up, but he could get the gist from the diagrams and formulae. 

Though he could barely admit it to himself, it was kind of nice to have something that one of his trine had been involved in; there was even the occasional doodle or scribbled memo in the margins – reminders to return Skywarp's calls, a note with the time and date for the promotion ceremony when Starscream had gone from just Air Commander to Second in Command of the entire Decepticon force. He remembered that – Thundercracker had shown up late and Starscream had accused him of preferring to be Shockwave's lab assistant rather than supporting his leader. It was right before an increasingly paranoid Megatron had ordered Skywarp and Thundercracker to posts across the galaxy, splitting the three of them up, so he'd never had the chance to apologise. Not that he had intended to do so, but he'd rather blame Megatron for that too.

“Too afraid I commanded more of their loyalty. If _I_ had been in charge this war would have ended far differently.”

Realising he'd said that out loud again, he glanced up at Shockwave. No response, he was still being ignored. Convenient – it wouldn't do to alienate the still-loyal scientist while he still needed him. He tried to concentrate on his task but found himself turning over plans in his head. He was sure he had the right to re-declare Vos as a sovereign state, but he needed to gain support first. He needed to secure his position as much as possible before making any overt moves.

He was fairly certain Shockwave would follow him if only to get out of this Autobot prison, no matter how gilded the bars. But past experiences had taught him that Decepticon troops had an odd blind-spot when it came to their leadership and for some reason didn't consider him capable of anything above second place. He could probably convince most by paying lip-service to their Lord's 'eventual' return, he'd certainly had enough practice, but the idea no longer appealed.

“I will do this by my own hand, or not at all.”

A different approach was needed – sowing the seeds of discontent first, then reaping the loyalty of those wishing for a better life.

-

“It's a bad idea.”

“Alright. Anyone else have anything to add.”

Bumblebee looked along the group in front of him. Sideswipe shrugged.

“No I'd say that about sums it up.”

“And with Optimus Prime no stronger- _krzt_ -longer on Earth, I'm not sure if we'll be able to contain them in the event of a... problem.”

“Plus that guy punches like a busformer.”

“Strongarm? You're being quiet.”

“I think that this... helping Decepticons thing, giving them a second chance is... a nice idea but. We wouldn't be having this meeting if that was Steeljaw instead.”

Bee sighed, “I know. But I think it's something we should consider. Optimus would.”

_'Had Skyquake chosen to stray from his Master's path, we might not be burying him today.'_

Ratchet had called it a weakness once, the Prime's enduring faith that their enemies could still be reasoned with. Even after everything, even after Unicron, he knew that if Optimus had been standing there with them right now, he would offer Megatron peace in the hope that _this_ time it would be accepted. And the thing was, there was a real chance it would be. After leaving Cybertron, Megatron had simply disappeared rather than rallying any other Decepticons – he hadn't lied then. He really might not be lying now.

“Denny, I would like your thoughts as well – we are guests here on your planet after all.”

Denny looked up from where he'd been, not ignoring exactly, but paying more attention to the pair of Decepticons over the way, within eyesight but hopefully out of earshot.

“I have to admit I'm not that comfortable having a pair of death machines so close to Russell, and if you're sure they won't fit in the leftover stasis pods...”

He trailed off again, watching Megatron unobtrusively. The others followed suit when they realised what he was up to – having assumed that he was not currently being directly watched he was taking the opportunity to shift Soundwave's position to a more comfortable one in hopes of encouraging the energon-uptake, looking almost like a fussy mother hen.

“...are they related somehow? Like, is he Soundwave's dad?”

“...No. No, our race doesn't work like that exactly. But it is odd behaviour for Decepticons, especially for Megatron.”

“Well, anyway I guess we did beat Soundwave already. And you guys did beat that other one before too, right? I suppose so long as it's temporary, and they don't go anywhere or break anything.”

“It will be temporary. As soon as Soundwave is fit to travel they'll be leaving the Earth. However, I want everyone to keep their guard up. Don't assume they'll be friendly, just because they're docile.”

Drift frowned, arms folded.

“The amount of damage either one could do by themselves is incalculable. However, helping those less fortunate is the right thing to do. And there are many who have chosen a more righteous path when given a second chance at life.”

Jetstorm and Slipstream exchanged glances from where they were sat with Russell on a crate nearby, but otherwise kept quiet. 

“Believe me I am more than aware of what Megatron can do. And if necessary I will take him down. But it might not come to that. I know I didn't give Steeljaw this option, but Steeljaw wasn't open to negotiation, and I believe this time Megatron is.”

They all looked at each other, shrugging or nodding cautiously.

“Alright then, I think it's best if everyone try and keep their distance as much as possible. Just, you know, try and act natural, but don't provoke anything.” With a stare at the younger members of his team, both organic and not, he added, “I mean it this time. No doing the opposite of what I say just because you think it's a good idea. If you want to talk to them, talk to me about it first.”

The little meeting split up, people heading for energon or breakfast and settling in for a lazy but alert day.

-

After spending most of the day typing, Shockwave had given him a portable powerpack and a schedule of supply-run days he should avoid visiting on. He'd kicked him out at the same time, admittedly, but Starscream knew he wasn't the easiest person to spend time cooped up in a room with. It was a reputation he'd carefully cultivated after all.

Right now he was trying to get the communication relays in Skyfire's lab to function properly – he had a list of contacts to make after all, and anything done on Shockwave's equipment would get logged.

The vidscreen finally flickered to life as the call went through, the face on the other end going from bored frustration to shock.

_-“Yes, who is- **Starscream!** Who gave you this frequency?!”-_

“...You did. _Really_ Knock Out, if you don't want your old comrades-in-arms contacting you, you ought to change it.”

_-“That's not the point – do you have any idea what they'll do to me if I get caught talking with you!”-_

“Life on the winning team not as wonderful as you imagined? Or do Autobots undervalue their medical staff now they're not fighting a war?”

_-“Hah well, **apparently** , I'm 'not qualified' to be a medic because I don't have a degree from the Iacon Medical Academy, and my alt-form is 'extremely inappropriate'.”-_

He'd obviously touched a nerve there, then.

_-“You didn't contact me to listen to me complain, what do you want?”-_

Starscream inspected his clawtips, voice nonchalant.

“Not much, just a favour from an old friend.”

_-“Drop dead.”-_

“Did you know your friends have been planting control devices in captured Decepticons?”

_-“Don't be ridiculous, no one's used I/D chips since before the war.”-_

“Yes, Senator Proteus was quite fond of them as I recall. I hear he goes by Councillor now.”

There was a growl on the other end of the line.

_-“Well **I** certainly don't have one, and I doubt anyone else does.”-_

“How about a wager? If you can't find any evidence of it, I'll leave you alone. But if you do find someone with one, well, I _do_ need that favour.”

There was a click as the line went dead, vidscreen blanking. Starscream tidied it away, smirking to himself. He disconnected the power pack to save the remaining charge for the energon refiner and stretched upwards, wings flaring out.

“What fun.”

-

Knock Out sat there glaring at the blank screen, clawed fingertips drumming angrily on the console, and he huffed.

“The nerve of-”

“Who are you talking to?”

With an extremely unbecoming yelp he shot to his feet, the chair tumbling backwards. 

“Smokescreen! You're back early! Nobody, just some idiot who wouldn't take no for an answer.”

Smokescreen stepped in from the doorway, picking up and righting the chair. He smiled reassuringly at his room-mate – whoever he'd been on call to had obviously upset him, probably another idiot who thought he was still a Decepticon. He changed the subject.

“So, how's the job hunt going?”

“Oh, it's going great. Fabulous, even.”

The cheer in his voice sounded forced, they both knew it, but Smokescreen accepted it at face value anyway – he hadn't left the Hall of Records early today to start a fight. The opposite in fact.

“That's great! Anyway, Bulk and Wheeljack asked me if I wanted to come check out the work they're doing on the Ibex racecourse, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with?”

“You could have just commed me about it.”

“Maybe but I barely have time to see you as it is. Come on, when was the last time you even went out for a drive anyway?”

Knock Out turned away, tapping fingers against hip plating thoughtfully.

“Who else is working on that?”

“Well, the _Nemesis'_ Vehicons are probably all there, they're still following Bulky around like baby chicks. And I guess Grapple's crew still has some Vehicons left as well. But I don't think there are any proper Decepticons there, right now. Why, someone been giving you scrap?”

“No, no – just curious.”

“Oh, well, good. So, no time like the present, right? Are you coming?”

Knock Out forced another smile, that still didn't reach his dark red optics, waving at the door flippantly.

“Lead the way.”

-

Like most of his system-alerts his chronometre no longer functioned, but judging by the passage of Earth's sun it had been most of a day, plus last night, and Soundwave's status still hadn't changed. At least the Autobots were keeping their distance. He should be angry at this, angry at _them_ , but even though an uncharacteristic worry was haunting his mind, whenever he tried to think about how good his claws would feel buried in their spark-chambers the pain of having his own spark ripped through by Unicron came back. 

Megatron sunk the claws of his unoccupied hand into the hard dirt beneath him, fangs grinding.

_'I hope you can feel that you-'_

He looked up – Bumblebee was there holding out another cube to get his attention.

“Here. You should refuel as well.”

He took it and set it to the side, watching suspiciously as the yellow mech sat next to him once again, with a discreet amount of distance between them.

“It's not poisoned, you know. You can drink it.”

Megatron gave no indication of having heard him, waiting for him to leave again. Bumblebee didn't take the hint.

“It's been agreed that you can stay, by the way.”

“Why did you not merely order them to comply, warrior? I doubt they would act against it.”

Bumblebee actually laughed at that.

“Hah, you'd be surprised. Why do you keep calling me that?”

“I can hardly keep calling you 'scout'.”

“Didn't think you paid much attention to Autobot Ranking Ceremonies.”

Megatron's lip curled in an expression Bee didn't think he'd ever seen on him before, an odd mix of self-loathing and contempt.

“Are you not the one who snuffed the mighty Megatron? What higher rank could you attain?”

Bee's doorwings flickered uncertainly, and he remained silent. The unexpected movement caught Megatron's eye, and he finally glanced over. They watched each other cautiously. Thinking back through all the times they'd interacted Bumblebee had never seen him this, calm wasn't the right word. Sane maybe, and almost unsure. He seemed to be casting around for something to say.

The silence stretched as fragile as spun glass, until the warlord broke it.

“Your... _tenacity_ is something I admired, at our first meeting-”

His engine sputtered, almost stalling, _he could still feel the claws sinking into his throat-cabling and-_ and Bumblebee found himself on his feet, fists clenched tightly.

“ _Don't_. Just, don't.”

Before either could act further, Soundwave's frame heaved upwards, kicking wildly.

-

Awareness was slowly filtering back, base-coding coming online with every pulse of energon. He floated within his own mind, for how long? Maybe forever, frame unresponsive. An attempted boot-sequence brought carrier-protocols with it, pinging each docking port in turn. Something that happened every time he came out of stasis, each one coming back as offline, something he thought he was used to. Now he wanted to scream disembodied into the silence, _yes yes **I know** get on with it_
    
    
    ⚠ ALERT
    
    Dorsal Port Status: Offline;
    
    Caudal Port Status: Offline;
    
    Bilateral Ports Status: Offline / Offline;
    
    Ventral Port Status:

_please please please not you too_

To his profound relief Laserbeak's systems responded, sending back her frame vital stats and fuel levels. He slowly shunted his own energon to her, carefully monitoring her system in case her fuel tank rejected it. In the background more systems booted up but his carrier-protocols were still in control and it was a struggle to widen his focus to include them. It took some time for his strangely sluggish processor to realise _something was touching him._

Shooting to his feet he forced his senses online at max, cancelling out the cascade of error messages that it caused. Even before his vision had fully calibrated he was clawing at the blurry shape round his middle, slender digits scrabbling at thick plating.

Megatron let him go, allowing him to regain his equilibrium on his terms, and gestured for the others to keep their distance as well.

Soundwave's long limbs scythed out as he stumbled back, struggling to stay upright through the sensory feed overload as all his battle systems kicked in on high alert faster than the filtering protocols needed to identify and classify each sound on his threat ranking system could come online. His visual feeds weren't resetting either, showing static apart from vague moving blurs. One hand clamped over his ventral docking port, forcing Laserbeak against her protests to _stay there it's **safer**_

One sound cut through everything else, the sound his world revolved round, his lodestone, his reason for living, and he whipped round to face it.

“Soundwave. Soundwave, it's me.”

Focusing solely on that shape, his errors were able to start clearing, the visual snow coalescing into a familiar-but-not frame. He knew it was his Lord, knew as well as he knew his own spark – the stance of his legs, the set of his shoulders, the way he still favoured his right shoulder just slightly because of the extra weight of the fusion cannon he no longer had. A mere full-frame upgrade was irrelevant to Soundwave. But there _were_... certain differences. That imperceptible rattle from his leftside vent (an old, old wound, not serious enough to merit medical attention) was gone, as were the sounds of his vents in general. Energon no longer roared down fuel-lines, a spark no longer flared in its chamber. It was Megatron's frame, but how much of Megatron – _his_ Megatron – still remained within it? There was one way to be sure, and he activated his visor.

Megatron watched as his own face as it used to be, as it _should_ be, appeared on Soundwave's visor. He took a cautious step forwards, holding out a hand.

“Yes, Unicron altered my frame.”

Soundwave seemed to consider this, before slipping into a combat stance, the image on his visor changing into a different picture of Megatron, taken at a different time. Megatron paused again – he had obviously misunderstood the question.

“I know you know who I am. Stand down.”

That last was aimed not just at Soundwave but at the others as well – the Autobots were getting jittery. His visor changed again, and again, and now he was altering the light levels as well, flashing each picture as it came up. He was practically shouting, but Megatron could not tell what he meant. It bothered him more than he expected – they had _always_ understood one another – and it hurt that a mere change of appearance had been enough to fool Soundwave.

Or, had it though.

They seemed a jumble of random photos, most were stills of the side of his head clipped from Soundwave's own visual feed recordings that he'd obviously been unaware of their taking, but he was starting to pick out locations and events he recognised. There was a pattern to the images, they were all on Cybertron, and they were so old that in most of them he still had blue- _**oh**_

_'Back when I commanded loyalty instead of fear.'_

“We both swore an oath in the Acid Wastes. You held to yours, I failed in mine.”

Soundwave's visor dimmed completely and he straightened up, the blaster on his arm retracting back into its housing. His vocaliser clicked on.

_/Megatronus/_

Orion Pax's voice echoed around the silent scrapyard. _Hate_ surged through him instinctively, and was gone. He could not hold onto it. Opening a fist he hadn't realised he'd clenched, he held out his hand.

“I still function.”

Soundwave did not take the hand, instead stepping forwards and bowing, or kneeling, it wasn't clear which he intended as he toppled sideways having misjudged where the ground was.

There was a general instinctive rush to try and stop him from falling over, Soundwave belatedly realised Megatron wasn't the only one there which tripped all his battle-protocols back online and his limbs seized up, everything rating as the highest threat at once and hanging his secondary processor. Unable to prevent her from undocking, Laserbeak shot up from his chest in defence, or at least that had been her plan, instead weakly fluttering to the ground where Grimlock picked her up and got a laser blast to the hand for his troubles.

“Okay, just, everyone give him some space.”

Bee shooed everyone back, trying to prevent the impending collapse of their impromptu ceasefire. Megatron hauled Soundwave back up, pressing the energon cube against his claws, it luckily hadn't been knocked over in the scuffle.

“The Autobots are not currently a threat. Refuel.”

Something pinged on Soundwave's visor, quiet enough that only Megatron could really hear it.

“Refuel first. You may consider it an order if you wish.”

He held out a broad claw, Laserbeak reaching out with her own little data cables to catch hold of him, and he passed her back to Soundwave. Latching onto his chest, they had the energy to dock properly this time, and he began siphoning to her, pulling from his own lines rather than the cube.

“Soundwave. There is enough for both of you. Refuel.”

Soundwave flicked an energy-level comparison onto his visor, tilting his head slightly in the Autobot's direction.

“It's not contaminated, and that is no longer an acceptable level of fuel for your functioning – there is more than enough for two.”

He was already doing things differently by being here – perhaps a different approach should be used here too.

“If you go offline from self-neglect, who will look after Laserbeak then?”

Soundwave stalked abruptly away, lowering down into a half-crouch with his back to everyone and facing a shelf.

_/Status/Drone/irrelevant/_

Though they weren't his own voice-clips, he still sounded angry – using as few as possible to get his meaning across. Megatron trudged after him, still carrying the cube, and settled down with his back against the spy-master's, somewhat shielding him from view.

“They already know, there are three minicons here already. Refuel.”

Eventually, a cable slunk out, wrapping a coil round his arm before latching onto the open top of the cube and filtering the contents through.

Well. That could have gone better, but still, success of a sort.

-

Everything slowly calmed down again with the Decepticons apparently willing to just sit quietly in 'their' corner until they could leave. Russell was watching the news on TV – no further updates on the 'alien invasion', experts now talking about possible government experiments – Sideswipe was sat next to him waiting for him to put something more interesting on. Grimlock wandered over and sat nearby where he could still watch their guests.

“You okay there Grim?”

The big dinobot was still rubbing at his head.

“Yeah, least he didn't get my good side.”

“Haha yeah, man, for a moment there I thought that was it.”

“Well maybe,” interrupted Strongarm as she came over with some energon cubes. “If you hadn't been so reckless.”

Sides mock-pouted, mimicking one of Russell's go-to 'faces', as he took his cube, and leant against her companionably when she sat next to him.

“Those two are taking their time.”

“Well, we don't know what damage Soundwave took. Or what they're planning for when he's recovered.”

“You think Bee's making a mistake?”

“I _think_ that all the history vids I watched back home didn't paint Megatron as an honest kind of person.”

“Ugh, you _watched_ those? Boring, you're as bad as Sunny.”

Russell came over, climbing up Sideswipe to sit on his shoulder.

“Who's Sunny? Your girlfriend?”

There was a slight pause as both 'bots looked up the term, and Sideswipe burst out laughing.

“He's my spark-twin, back on Cybertron. Why, is Hank _your_ girlfriend?”

“Eargh that's gross!”

“Aww you made him blush.” Strongarm gave him a friendly clout. “How come you never told me you were a split-spark?”

“What's a split-spark?”

“No one knows why it happens, I don't think, but sometimes when a spark comes out of the Well it integrates into two frames instead of one. But that doesn't mean we're exactly the same – I'm _way_ more handsome.”

“That is _so cool_.”

“What's up Strongarm? Are you actually upset about it?”

“No, I'm just trying to come to terms that I live in a universe where there are _two of you_.” She grinned at him, frown chased away, and he laughed back, and the three settled in to watch the latest episode of _Beyond the Mysterious Unknown_.

-

The sun was dipping again, another day ending and no one had managed to kill anyone. Soundwave had gone through most of the cube, Laserbeak comfortably recharging in her dock, her mind nestled contentedly against his own. Most of his processors were still cataloguing everything within his sensory radius – what was background noise, what could be ignored, what was human, what was Autobot, mapping out the area and realigning it with the data he'd already compiled of the planet while on the _Nemesis_. He could still dedicate more than necessary to watching her signs, pulsing down _calm_ whenever something threatened to wake her.

It was a helpful distraction as he fought his own recharge – being in a stasis coma had shut his systems off but it wasn't _restful_ , he was too used to clawing himself back into awareness having spent the last five years terrified he'd miss the sole chance for escape while asleep. But he wasn't going to make himself any more vulnerable while in Autobot hands, no matter how many times the presence at his back told him to.

The big familiar _Megatron_ unfamiliar _Empty_ presence. 

It was still difficult to reconcile. 

His cable was still wrapped round his arm, the spiked and pitted plating feeling almost organic against the sensory layer embedded in the cable's surface. Feeling _wrong_. He retracted it, Megatron did not react, giving him his space.

Darkness fuzzed round the edges of his vision, combining with the fading of the daylight. He would not recharge – he _would not_. There would be time for reassurance later, but right now he had to keep watch, any one of these Autobots could attack Lord Megatron, he needed to be ready. He needed to...

There was a faint _tink_ sound as his forehelm rested against the shelf of human junk he'd been crouched in front of, frame slumping forwards, too tired to maintain the rigid posture. He straightened himself back up but was careful not to lean too far back, hyper-aware of how closely together they were sat and unwilling to make tactile contact – it was not something either appreciated.

The ratio of recharging Autobots to watching Autobots was increasing, but he could still hear the Prime's scout and the traitor moving around, tracking every step they made. It would be trivial for them to escape now but still Megatron made no move to do so, even though Soundwave could tell he was watching Bumblebee's movements just as closely. 

His vision dimmed again, systems slowing before he caught himself. It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got away from me a bit, erf. I've moved a few scenes to Ch4 cause I just really wanted to actually update
> 
> Also I thought RiD was set way after TFP but I guess it's only been a few years thanks to Bee recently popping up with a voice in Rescue Bots like an adorable bastard. I've edited the previous chapter a bit so it's only been 5 years, and if anything else goes wrong with my timelines then ~~a wizard did it~~ Brainstorm dropped one of his briefcases.
> 
> Oh and if anyone's interested, I imagine Ratbat looking more like that other bat guy on the Alchemor, rather than being one of Soundwave's babies :)


	4. Wear It Now, Like A Mantle

His systems had barely slowed into recharge when his fans roared back to life and he shot upright again. One finger tapped against the flared plating on Megatron's arm before withdrawing – only after he'd re-confirmed he was still within the physical world did he start to relax again.

This was now the third time in ten minutes and Megatron was starting to feel a vague impatience. Soundwave had never been this combination of clingy and standoffish before, and he didn't understand the reason. Why was he still too wary to recharge with Megatron watching his back? Was he being considered weak now because he had been defeated? Surely the fact that he could feel annoyed by this meant that he was no longer dead?

The whirring of stressed systems was coming more frequent now, and the next time a fingertip touched his plating he caught it in his claws.

“Soundwave. _Recharge_.”

The limb in his hand froze, the soundclip barely audible even in the silence of the night.

_/apologies/_

He let the arm go and it was quickly withdrawn. Pushing a leg underneath himself Megatron half-rose, turning around to face him. Soundwave did not react, still hunched down against the shelving rack.

What could he do, what could he say, that would be reassuring? Optimus would know, Optimus had built an army on camaraderie and bonds of friendship, _Optimus_ did not have a reputation to maintain- maintain for what? What did any of it matter anyway, the war was lost.

It was as if his own plating was too heavy, a lethargic weight pressing down on his shoulders. The noise of Soundwave's fans sputtering on again pulled his attention back to the outside world, and he found himself staring blankly at the second cube of energon Bumblebee had given him. Uncapping it, he shoved it towards Soundwave's hand as it shot out clawing at anything it could touch just to check he still could without phasing through the world again.

“You should at least continue to refuel.”

His self-repair had probably burnt through the first cube already – he'd started losing consciousness more and more rapidly, the extreme panic flooding stress through his systems every time he forced himself back online wasn't helping either.

Soundwave pushed the cube back, offering it instead, and Megatron shook his head.

“I no longer require any.”

More gently than he thought he was capable of, he pressed the cube back, tucking Soundwave's fingers over the top. After a moment Soundwave took it, moving so that he was facing Megatron, his visor flickering on and showing a picture of one of the Autobots. Megatron was about to brush his concern aside with another reassurance that they were not prisoners when the text filtering on next to it gave him pause.

Soundwave had pulled up another record, one of a Decepticon and was comparing the two – the name and paint-apps were different but the build was near enough, as were some of the observed personality traits. Maybe not similar enough for most to consider a connection, but Soundwave wasn't most and Megatron knew his skills enough to trust that he was correct. It would explain that Autobot keeping watch along with Bumblebee – he also understood the threat they posed far better than the rest of the sparklings that surrounded them. The punishment for deserting the Decepticon Cause was death.

But it didn't matter any more. The _Cause_ was dead.

“Enough Soundwave. The war is over.”

Soundwave tilted his head down, obediently blanking his visor again. Megatron moved to sit beside him, leaving a small gap between them. Most of the physical contact in his life had been on the battlefield, and it was not something he wished for or enjoyed. Soundwave lent back against the shelves, latching one of his data-cables onto the energon cube and filtering it. The energy boost wasn't enough to counteract his condition and his helm soon dipped down for a moment before twitching back up.

Megatron affected not to see, unwilling to further draw attention to his current weakness. Instead he leant back as well, scratching at his forearm plating with an unconscious anxiety.

“Why did you never question my _stupidity?_ How could you let things get to such a state?”

Soundwave remained quiet and still. For anyone else it would mean thinking up an excuse, but Soundwave never lied. Eventually he faced him, pulling up a picture of Starscream leaning over to point at something in a long-ago war council back on Cybertron, and replayed Megatron's words back to him.

_/question my **stupidity** /_

Megatron scowled, claws digging ineffectually into his arm. Of course, carrying out commands quickly and efficiently had been Soundwave's role. But when exactly had his Second in Command gone from being considered a welcome difference in opinion and a tactical resource to a punching bag that must only parrot his ideas back to him? Was it because of his treasonous actions or did it cause them? The timing didn't matter, he already knew he himself was responsible. How could he ever face Starscream again?

He heaved out a sigh, manually forcing air through vents. One of the Autobots glanced over, optics a blue gleam in the darkness, but they were not disturbed.

“If you consider my actions foolish in future, then question me on them. You no longer kneel to me.”

He didn't receive a response, and a few moments later a digit brushed his plating. Having had enough of that, he reached over and simply hauled Soundwave next to him, engine growling in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. Soundwave stiffened immediately, sitting ramrod straight by his side. Resting his own hand over Soundwave's rudimentary one, he glanced down at him from the corner of his eye.

“Is this...”- _'helping at all?'_ -“...acceptable?”

Very slowly, ready to pull away if it was unwanted, Soundwave turned his arm over and threaded his thin digits between the claws, brushing against their blunt sides. Neither looked properly at the other, in the silence the low whirring of his stressed processors latching onto everything and anything to keep himself awake could be heard clearly, especially now that Megatron's own frame was still. He could even feel the air being vented out hard from Soundwave's side against his, even though he didn't feel like he was running overly hot at all.

It wasn't the first time, but it had been a _long_ time, that they had sat like this. Megatron had to admit to himself that even with all the differences between that situation and this, the frustration felt just the same. His whole life was moulded by the simple rule of survival – hit first and hit hard. But now, as then, there was nothing here he could strike back.

_'I will sear this planet to the bone for you, just **tell me** how to help'_

Old memories, old regrets. 

Slowly, visor sinking down, Soundwave leant into his side, tucking long limbs up into a surprisingly small ball. The recharge-loop he was stuck in didn't stop, but it did slow somewhat, every so often his fingers gripped hard round Megatron's but the constant physical contact meant he didn't have to come properly online before remembering where he was.

It wasn't great but it was something. Of course, Optimus Prime would have fixed this already, would have made some ridiculous speech about the true hero being inside him after all, would never have felt so inept and _useless_. Well let it never be said that what Optimus _Prime_ would do, Megatron could not do the same, could not do _better_. 

He would fix this. It was he that had failed, it would be he to make things right. Somehow. He would think of something. But right now he would simply be the presence that might allow Soundwave to recharge without fear of never waking again, as if losing consciousness was like falling into a pit he had to claw right back out of.

-

The roads of Cybertron stretched before them, and Knock Out found himself missing Earth. It wasn't just that the surface felt somehow strange under his tyres now (he hadn't changed from his Earth alt-form either, why mess with perfection?), it was more an undefinable difference rooted in chasing an ever-present horizon through changing organic landscapes, feeling the wind press over the curves of his frame under that blue, blue sky. 

Cybertron's atmosphere was thin, its sun small and its sky pale. Almost every inch of its surface had been colonised at one point or another, and they wound through constructions and old warzones, hemmed in on either side. It was possible that with their vast great plains and deserts humans had _some_ good ideas, even if the grit and the insects had a tendency to get under one's plating.

He only realised he'd been lost in thought when he saw Smokescreen had pulled ahead, and was now a few lengths in front. Knock Out increased his speed, coming up alongside him, and Smokescreen almost immediately moved in front again. After the third time he revved his engine enticingly, mirrors canted back in hopes of a response. Admittedly it was a little tempting, he wasn't sure when the last time he'd left their apartment was, never mind the last time he'd raced-

Not giving him a chance to think further or talk himself out of it, Smokescreen roared forwards, shooting down the curves in the road. His old competitive streak kicked in and he gave chase, his own engine a low thunder. They were more evenly matched now than back on Earth, but even though Knock Out was long out of practice he was still more than happy to cheat to ensure a win, something that Smokescreen still wouldn't do. 

He was so caught up in the race and planning his next move that he didn't notice that his companion wasn't taking turns as tightly as he should, that maybe he was just a little slower in taking opportunities to overtake. He forgot for the moment why he'd really agreed to come in the first place, and the further implications of Starscream's sudden contact after so long, and threw himself into the thrill of speed.

It was distracting enough that when they reached their destination, Knock Out in front by half a length, he transformed back to root-mode with his once-customary swagger. Smokescreen hid a smile as he too transformed, but he couldn't stop his doorwings from flaring up in happiness that his plan had succeeded in cheering his friend up if only for a moment.

The large stadium that held the racecourse gleamed before them, the scaffolding still surrounding unfinished areas didn't detract from the splendour of the architecture round the entryway. Bulkhead was waiting for them outside and he waved them over.

“The inside's mostly finished, if you want to look around.”

Leading the way through the impressive entryway, Bulkhead walked alongside Smokescreen, Knock Out trailing along behind them. Smokescreen whistled appreciatively, determined to fill any awkward silences with _something_.

“Nice place, thanks for asking us over.”

A private comm request came up on his HUD as he was speaking.

_-What's the deal? You asked me.-_

_-Yeah, miiight have implied it was an invitation. Come on Bulk, you said you'd be nice to him.-_

Bulkhead sighed quietly, speaking out loud again.

“Yeah, so, once the giltwork's done it'll be opened to the public.”

Once through the entrance, they walked straight out onto the top of the tiered seating that sloped down to the sub-surface level race track, all brilliantly lit up and gleaming. Wheeljack was lounging on one of the seats about halfway down, and on the track itself a handful of Vehicons were laying down striplights while the rest were hoisting up the electrical screens that would provide close-ups of any action, assisted by a neon and purple crane that Smokescreen didn't recognise and Knock Out immediately did.

“So I take it that all the Decepticons here are receiving medical treatment?”

It was the first thing he'd said since arriving and it left the others a little nonplussed.

“I, uh, I don't think so? Dunno about Grapple's lot but no one's seen mine since Ratchet. Things keep 'coming up' and they don't show.”

“But you _have_ a medic here already!”

They both stared at him, not understanding what he had meant. Smokescreen looked worried and reached out to pat him on the arm reassuringly.

“Well if you want to while we're here, I'm sure that's fine.”

Bulkhead nodded.

“Yeah it's fine. It's nice of you, didn't think you cared about the drones.”

“That's not- **fine** , fine.”

He waved them off with the ghost of his old acerbity and went down the tiered steps. He was aware that Smokescreen and Bulkhead, now joined by Wheeljack and a yellow construction-frame he didn't know, were discussing something in low tones – probably him and his volatile moods.

_'Senator Proteus was quite fond of them – I hear he goes by Councillor now.'_

Starscream's words echoed in his head. How likely was it that the Vehicons had been given I/D chips – he didn't have one, he hadn't even been put through any kind of trial. Surely what remained of the upper classes wouldn't be so stupid to continue with what had partly fuelled the rebellion.

Recognising him as he approached, the _Nemesis'_ Vehicons fell into a respectful line and waited for him to address them, one of them forwards a little as an unofficial spokesperson.

He didn't bother to address them, at the very least it may arouse suspicions. Instead they followed his short commands in silence as he gave each one a brief physical, as good as he could without any external medical equipment to make up for his lack of built-in scanners. No suspicious welding that he could make out. Obviously Starscream had been wrong about it, just like he'd been wrong about everything else in the last four million years.

He relaxed as the others approached, giving the last of Bulkhead's Vehicons a once-over. The red Autobot badge clashed horribly with their old dark purple paint, and he said so without realising. Quickly, right before Smokescreen joined him, the Vehicon tapped the centre of their badge then ducked their helm and gestured first to it then in the direction of the other group of Vehicons still working on the other side of the arena. Before he could react, the Vehicon returned to their habitual blankness and Smokescreen pulled him away to meet the others properly.

Knock Out allowed himself to be tugged over to be introduced to Grapple, answering questions at random while his thoughts raced. They must have known what he was looking for – at the beginning of the war all Decepticon medics had had crash-courses in removing inhibitor/deterrence chips from the bulk of the army as they had been in used back then to control criminals, rebels and other undesirable elements of society that had flocked to Megatron's banner. He could see from where they were standing that the other Vehicons, the ones not from the _Nemesis_ , did not have Autobot badges.

Belatedly he realised he was being asked a question.

“I said, would you mind looking at my group too? I've tried to get someone to see them before but no one's ever available.”

Grapple was looking at him in a friendly manner, he didn't look like he knew anything was wrong.

“Yes, that's fine.”

He walked over with him, still chatting companionably. Knock Out wished he would go away, or at least be quiet.

“I even asked a buddy of mine who knows some first aid, but he refused and won't tell me why. It's really weird.”

The Vehicons shuffled into a vague line at a gesture from Grapple, they ignored Knock Out. It was understandable as they had never met him and didn't know who he was or had been – he wasn't a member of High Command, unlike-

“ _Traitor_.”

“Hook.”

“Please don't start. Sorry about that, are you-”

Knock Out stepped to the side to avoid the comforting hand. _Autobots_ – so touchy-feely. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, Hook did remain silent although Knock Out got the impression he was being glared at as much as a vehicle could.

“It's _fine_.”

Grapple didn't look like he thought so but he ordered the Vehicons over, letting them know what was going on. As the first one stepped over for their examination that little voice in his head that was hoping that maybe, just maybe everything really was fine fell silent and died.

The faint tracery of weld-lines on the side of their helm had been painted over and were barely visible, but experience of what to look for, and the perfectionist eye for detail that had been the reason Hook had picked him out of the list of hopefuls to take his place as the _Nemesis'_ surgeon (Devastator being needed on more active battlefronts than Earth), caught the slight mismatch in paint-colour on the incision site. 

All of this he processed in barely a second, not letting anything show in his tone of voice or actions as he ordered them through the same exam as the first group. He didn't know who their handler was, probably not Grapple as if he had known he surely wouldn't have asked Knock Out to examine them, and he didn't want anyone to realise he knew what had happened and target him. He'd heard enough stories about not confirming the one holding the detonate button was offlined before attempting extraction and he didn't intend to become a statistic, not after surviving all the slag life had thrown at him so far.

Having confirmed all of them had incision-point wounds in addition to being generally more run-down than the _Nemesis'_ Vehicons, he turned to Hook.

“You're next, transform.”

Hook's abrupt snort of laughter sounded like an engine backfiring.

“As if I'd let a hack like _you_ anywhere near _my_ processor.”

Grapple looked suddenly uncomfortable, voice faltering a little.

“He, er, can't. They said it'd been temporarily disabled for public safety concerns while he's on community service.”

The confirmation that Hook couldn't transform out of alt-mode was enough to assume he had an I/D chip too – they inhibited access to the t-cog, among other things. What he really needed was privacy to talk to him without anyone else eavesdropping and potentially arresting them.

At that moment, the Vehicons who had gone back to work dropped one of the light-poles which caused a domino effect of things falling.

“Excuse me!”

Grapple dodged round him and ran over to assist, Bulkhead doing the same while roaring orders. The timing was massively convenient, could only have been done purposefully, and he hoped it wasn't so obvious to anyone else watching. Sidling closer to Hook he lowered his voice anyway, just in case.

“How many others?”

“Don't know, I assume all.”

“The other group of Vehicons are clean.”

Hook sniffed disparagingly.

“As much as I hate to admit it, _some_ Autobot medics aren't completely incompetent. They'd notice if any patients had one. I'm thinking locator beacon in the Autobrand for any who passed the Re-Integration Act. They wouldn't let any of us just walk freely around, no matter what they say. You aren't working this alone, who's suddenly interested?”

Knock Out nodded – it made sense. Bulkhead had mentioned Ratchet had looked at his group, and there was no way Ratchet would have missed it if they'd been chipped. No way he would have stayed quiet about it either. That thought was followed by the uncomfortable reminder that Ratchet had gone missing a few years ago. Had he in fact found the same evidence Knock Out now had, and been killed to ensure his silence? An angry revving snapped him out of it, Hook wasn't happy he was being ignored and he was talking fast now, hissing to get his request out quickly before they were re-joined by the others.

“Look, whatever, I need a favour. I need to know where Scrapper is.”

“I thought you lot could...”

Knock Out waved an arm vaguely – gestalt bonds and the mechanics thereof weren't his speciality.

“That's the problem. Feels like medical stasis but _wrong_ , and we haven't felt him properly since before getting transported back to Cybertron.”

Time was up, the Autobots were back, Knock Out stepped back into their little social circle. He waved off renewed apologies about the accident, spun some kind of compliment to the skill of their reconstruction that hopefully made sense (he was starting to get a little frazzled), and finally made his farewells after convincing Smokescreen that yes he was fine, just tired, and could make his way back by himself, thanks.

He left at as casual a pace he could manage, hoping that the feeling of being watched was just in his imagination.

-

The next day Soundwave was managing to be alert for longer stretches of time, and he was focused on maintaining his surveillance perimeter as far out as he could manage without moving or having access to a full communication array. Even so his range stretched out past Crown City, and having catalogued all the recurring sounds he was now finishing his ranking of them. Laserbeak had had as restless a night as he had but she could draw her energy from his frame and was more than happy to undock for reconnaissance, the queries of which he kept denying. No Autobot could be trusted to keep their word, regardless of there being other minicons around. The little medic one he would be willing to rank on the same level as the pair of humans if he hadn't been proven wrong on all three accounts how dangerous they had been last time. The pair of deployers were an unknown quantity along with their 'master' and the red speedster.

For their part they seemed content to avoid both him and Lord Megatron. It was the humans that were the problem. Three days of inactivity was obviously overriding memories of facing both Megatron and Soundwave in battle, even the two post-war 'bots were affected. They kept glancing over, finding excuses to wander by, discussing them in whispers they obviously thought he couldn't hear.

Bumblebee at least was giving them space, unwilling to be seen as encouraging interaction to the less tractable of his team members. 

The close proximity of their frames was still inciting comments, but Soundwave certainly wasn't going to be the first one to move. Lord Megatron had wanted him there and that was that. Plus, it felt... nice. The unnatural stillness and cold silence of a non-functioning frame still kept tripping his alerts, but it was getting easier to ignore. He leant a little further over, trying to pick up anything from inside the grey chassis and Megatron rested a careful hand on the flat plating over his shoulder in case he should tip over again. 

Still nothing, still Empty. He straightened again, tucked against a shoulder. Laserbeak pinged another undock request, this one accompanied by a pulse of _want/bored/sky_. He hesitated before dismissing that one too. It was understandable that she would want to stretch her wings and explore. While war had made her used to spending large amounts of time docked, they had had to spend their entire time in the Shadowzone docked together to pool their limited amount of fuel, and to conserve energy. 

And they had not had time to appreciate being free because they had been fending off rather persistent Autobots. That had been the closest he'd come to losing her in a long time – she still had a puncture wound in one of her delicate wing platelets from the dinobot's teeth that neither her self-repair nor Soundwave's own systems could properly fix. The edges may have healed over but the hole itself would need outside repair.

The worry threatened to break into panic and it must have bled into the bond because she changed to a reassuring hum, _safe/here/still function_ , a warm little spark in his mind.

Still. Even though now she was trying to hide it, Soundwave could still feel her _need_ to fly, as strong as any other flight-frame, no matter that their society did not consider symbionts as truly sparked mecha. His own need was more ignorable – he didn't have the energy even to transform nevermind take off. And, as brief a time as it had been before he'd been reformatted, he'd not come out of the Well flight-capable – while it wasn't something he'd ever give up, the sky wasn't embedded into his core coding in the same way that caring for his symbionts' needs was.

Pulling up his spatial map of the scrapyard, he marked a careful boundary around the area they were sat in, and sent it to her. Her sudden excitement was infectious and she wriggled in the slots in his chest-plating, sending another undocking request. Soundwave relaxed his plating's grip on her frame and their docking connectors unlocked. She pulled out, transforming to her own root-mode from the shape needed to fit into the slots, and shifted on his outstretched hands, each examining the other. 

He brushed a careful finger near the hole in her wing, wondering how best to fix it. She fluttered her plating, nuzzling the finger, and turned her focus on Megatron who had been watching them over Soundwave's shoulder. He remained still, unsure of how to react and unwilling to appear threatening or intimidating. Laserbeak hopped a little closer, rudimentary head tilting. Soundwave pulsed reassurance and she chirred. One of her little data-cables slid out and she tapped against the thick, heavy plating on his chest, and then she abruptly took off, circling round them before shooting upwards, careful to remain within the boundaries Soundwave had marked.

The wind running through the hole in her wing made a sudden high-pitched whistling noise. Bumblebee happened to be walking nearby at that time and she shot over his head, his battle-protocols instantly activating and tracking her before realising who it was and forcing himself to relax, showing empty palms to Soundwave before continuing on. Soundwave didn't acknowledge him, but did also deactivate his own defensive-protocols that were demanding he leap to her defence. He also silently admonished Laserbeak to be more careful, and to return immediately if she were approached by anyone.

That done, he relaxed again and turned his attentions to the data she was sending back, sharing in her joy at feeling fuelled and free.

-

Now alone, the road held none of his attention, merely a path to follow and then sneak off of to find a secluded place to make a call. 

Preferring to walk rather than drive over the rubble and rust, he picked his way down the embankment and ducked under the gutted remains of an anti-air emplacement. Nerves gripped hold of him and he checked again that he hadn't been followed. Once he made the call there wouldn't be any going back from it – Starscream would view it as an act of allegiance, and he could hardly report any further contact to the 'proper authorities' without being implicated himself.

Knock Out paced in a tight circle, hidden from the road by the rusted remains he'd moved behind. His life wasn't great right now, but he was alive and that was something. It seemed he even enjoyed more privileges than other ex-Decepticons as he didn't even have a tracer in his badge. Not that he wore a badge, although Smokescreen had occasionally asked if he would like one. That was another point – how much did Smokescreen know? Or the other remaining 'Team Prime' 'bots for that matter. Had this whole friendship thing been a ruse of some sort to keep him under thumb? Keep him quiet and docile and- his engine snarled, battle-protocols switching on, and he forced out a shaky laugh.

“Get a grip on yourself. Jumping at shadows again.”

There was no way Smokescreen had known about this – _no one_ was that good of an actor. Admittedly it was still hard to think of Smokescreen as more than the Autobot's rookie member and a poor excuse for Bumblebee, but he had matured and if he had known he would have said something.

He wished Breakdown were here. Breakdown always knew what word or gesture would boost his mood, was always happy to provide a comforting presence while Knock Out ranted about whatever was bothering him. But Breakdown wasn't here, Breakdown had offlined on a mudball of a planet and had his empty frame paraded around as part of some human power-play, and now Knock Out was alone again and Breakdown had _promised_ and it _wasn't fair._

He sat on a metal outcropping, legs dangling. It wasn't like he'd been a fanatic about the Cause or anything, frankly he didn't actually care who ruled the planet so long as he was left alone to live his own life, regardless of what his frame-type meant he was 'supposed' to do. It had been Breakdown who'd attended rallies and followed speeches, and Knock Out had just followed Breakdown.

But he had to admit, even though he was on the winning side and even though he wasn't a prisoner, this wasn't what he and his partner had fought for. He was pretty much in the same situation he'd started in, with the added bonus of not living in a slum, but this time _knowing_ that the things that were now again 'impossible' for him to do he was actually extremely good at – he'd kept the _Nemesis'_ crew functional against the Prime himself, and he wasn't an exception. Very few Decepticon medics had had any formal training – their Chief Medical Officer had come out of the Well a construction worker for Primus' sake! And now Hook was being used as a glorified crane, he hadn't seen a flight-frame actually in the air since the last time he'd seen Starscream in person, and most of his own supposed allies avoided him in the streets. He'd gotten used to being more than this.

Mind made up, there was no point in delaying further. He made the call, pacing as he waited for the other end to pick up.

_-Ah, dear doctor. I trust you're more prepared to listen?-_

_-Just spit it out, Starscream. What do you want me to do?-_

_-Now, now, don't be like that. I don't want you to **do** anything, I just need some information.-_

Knock Out's optics widened in surprise as Starscream outlined his request, vents hitching.

_-Have you **blown a fuse?!** What makes you think I even know that!-_

_-You haven't denied it.-_

_-Fine, I'll send you the frequency, but don't think that I- -_

_-Knock Out.-_

The uncharacteristic seriousness in Starscream's voice made him falter mid-rant.

_-If this doesn't work, I won't be contacting you again.-_

_-And if it does?-_

_-Am I right in thinking you'd like some of your old status back?-_ The telling silence was answer enough. _-We'll see. The less anyone knows the better, right now.-_

Knock Out sighed, transmitted over the requested hailing frequency and cut the link. He made his way back to the road, fastidiously brushing ash from his plating. Time to go back to pretending nothing had happened – something else he was good at – and maybe see if he could find out any information on the sentences of the other Constructicons.

-

There was an odd message waiting for Ultra Magnus when he got back to his quarters. It wasn't the only one by a long shot – his life was far more public now than he was used to, and almost everyone wanted his attention on something. But no one had gone to such efforts to be anonymous, the text had been bounced through so many relays it was beyond his cursory skills to find the original sender. 

The contents were just as strange, after he'd run the file through as many anti-virus programs as possible. It was a request for information on the historical and legal records of the city-state of Vos – something anyone could easily find out themselves simply by visiting the Cybertron History Museum or the newly reopened Hall of Records. There was no reason why anyone would feel they needed to ask him personally about it, especially on his personal hailing frequency that not many had access to outside of Council admins and staff. Perhaps one of the young Aerialbots, interested in a whole city once dedicated to flight but afraid of being accused of Decepticon sympathising? 

He shrugged, attached the non-classified files that came up when he searched the archive on the datanet and sent them back then turned to his other work, giving it no more thought other than brief surprise that the reply actually went through successfully given the amount of redirecting. 

-

It hadn't taken long, even though Laserbeak hadn't strayed from where Soundwave had indicated, and even though none of the Autobots had attempted to approach her, for her to find and follow the other minicons. While Fixit did get some of her attention, most of it was focused on Jetstorm and Slipstream. Soundwave was still sharing her visual feed and was content to watch them through her as they went about their day, either trotting along after Drift, or hanging out with Russell and Sideswipe. 

It took even less time for them to realise they were essentially being stalked, and they were sticking even closer to the two they'd chosen so far to deploy from. Not all minicons were deployers, and not all deployers were symbionts, but they knew almost instinctively that carriers that had suffered losses reacted oddly around minicons that weren't their own – either seeing them as threats or having their base-coding attempt to recategorise them as another symbiont. 

While he watched them on the other side of the yard near the TV, he could feel her wistfulness and a loneliness both had worked hard to repress. It took a while for him to realise he had been absently tracing an outline of the glyph for _'same'_ over and over on the plating of Megatron's arm with a single digit. 

Megatron gave a non-committal grunt in response – they weren't, not really, but whatever made Soundwave happy was fine. The thought pulled up a memory file automatically for comparison, a pair of identical greying frames small enough he'd been able to scoop both up in one arm. He crushed it back down, but something must have shown in his body language no matter how subconscious or minuscule, and Soundwave's movements stilled. Megatron tugged him back against his chest, leaving a claw on the back of his shoulder joint reassuringly, and the slender mech allowed him to do so without protest. He still watched the minicon pair though, setting a not-inconsiderable amount of his processors to recording them then picking up his more general surveillance.

Halfway through analysing the data, he abruptly shot to his feet, the visual static that was his visor's default state now sharpening as he focused. Laserbeak banked round in a hard turn, shooting over and docking. Everyone was watching them now, Megatron had also risen, and Bee was heading over quickly.

“What's happening?”

“Is something approaching?”

He didn't put any resources into paying attention to them, his whole frame focusing on that distant sound, head tracking the source. Because he hadn't been paying attention, because he had _failed in his duties_ , it wouldn't be that long before the gathering group of humans and cybertronians would be able to hear it too.

A low, throbbing sound, slowly getting louder as it got closer, from somewhere over the forest to the west. The harmonics of the noise was already running through his database for cross-references, and it wasn't long before he had a match. He pulled it onto his visor, turning to Megatron to report it, as he always had.

Megatron didn't waste time in pointless posturing, simply passing the information onto Bumblebee.

“Military helicopters. They are heading this way and will pass directly overhead, assuming they don't mean to actually land here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I should add a Megs/SW relationship tag cause I guess it's starting to get a bit shippy-ish, but it's not really the main focus of the plot, which will conveniently be arriving next chapter where everything goes Horribly WrongTM


	5. A Million to One, He Said

There was an organised scramble as they took up practised positions, the sound of t-cogs whirring and plating shifting felt unnaturally loud and for an irrational moment Bumblebee worried the helicopters approaching would be able to hear it. Strongarm, Sideswipe and Drift drove off to the group of second-hand or otherwise vintage cars, mingling with them.

“Grim, take Megatron with you, he won't fit anywhere else.”

Neither looked like they liked the order but they left without protest – there wasn't time for it – Grimlock led him over to where there was a shielding pile of wood planks and fabrics near the energon store that would hopefully hide both of them from the air.

“Fixit, do something with Soundwave – if they land we'll try and keep them away from the command centre.”

The copters were visible now, the noise increasing as they dropped in altitude. Time's up. Bee stayed near Denny and Russell, doing a quick check as well as he could in alt-mode. Out of sheer desperation Fixit had sat Soundwave near the groundbridge control and flung the tarp from Grimlock's trailer over him before wriggling in next to him and peaking out from under the fabric.

“Don't worry, I'm right behind you.”

Denny patted his door in thanks, plating still warm in the sun after he cut his engine, smiling nervously.

“Lets hope they just need directions.”

The wind whipped up by the rotors spun dust around them as the lead helicopter landed in the open space in the centre of the scrapyard. The second one remained in the air – that one was larger than the first and had some kind of crate suspended from its belly that looked like a shipping container.

People were piling out of the first copter, armed soldiers in uniforms, and Denny gripped Russell's shoulder, telling him to stay back. He didn't need to be told twice, pressed up against Bee's side as Denny stepped forwards, empty hands raised in a conciliatory gesture.

A man wearing a US military general's uniform approached them, accompanied by two of the guards as well as an aide-de-camp carrying a strange spherical device and another man in a black suit and tie with what looked like a larger, bulkier tablet computer.

_-Everyone be on alert, but **do not** break cover unless absolutely necessary. Grimlock, if Megatron tries anything or attacks anyone, hit him until he stays down.-_

_-Can do.-_

“So, uh, what can I do for you?”

The silence stretched out, the man in the suit tapping at his screen, he shook his head and spoke to the general.

“It's gone again sir. The data signal keeps corrupting.”

“Hmm.”

They both looked at Denny – no, _past_ him, he realised, towards Russell and Bee. This was so beyond putting on a moustache and pretending to be a traffic conductor he wasn't sure what to do, brain freezing up on the fact that there was a whole bunch of assault-rifles less than ten feet from his child.

“Your car has very... _distinctive_ paint, Mr...?”

“Clay. Denny Clay. And it's my friend's car, just giving her a tune-up. Did the paint this morning, used to be red-”

None of them moved to take his outstretched hand, and he trailed off again, aware that he was rambling. Something clattered to the ground somewhere in the scrapyard and his smile froze, praying they wouldn't move to investigate.

The suited man pointed his tablet towards Bumblebee, examining the screen closely.

“It matches some of the historical data we have.”

The general nodded, gesturing for his aide to come forwards. He did so, brushing past Denny and ignoring his protests, and placed the sphere on the ground. They all moved back as it activated, the top half unscrewing upwards like an opening flower to reveal a twin-pronged rod that glowed in the sunlight. 

A beam shot from the top of the rod, hitting Bumblebee in the side and wreathing round his chassis. Blue streamers wrapped round the beam, travelling out from his frame up to the device where they were sucked inside. An unearthly noise filled the air, and it took Russell and Denny a moment to realise that it wasn't coming from the device – it was Bumblebee. Even as it took on a binary note of pain he was still trying futilely to remain as still as an Earth car would be, fighting his own ingrained fight-or-flight protocols, wheels spinning in place but going nowhere.

Russell, who up until now had been ignored by the strangers, was the first to react. He shot forwards, grabbed the device up off the ground and ran. As he jostled it, it retracted and closed – the beam shut off and Bee sagged on his axles, critical fuel levels sending him straight into stasis-lock. The surprise suddenness of his actions only gave Russell a small head-start, the soldiers rapidly snapped into action and chased after him, guns at the ready.

The fact that Fixit had been watching from his hiding place and was already hurrying forwards was the only thing that saved his life. As they opened fire, he reached Russell, knocking him over in his haste to get between him and them, the device falling from his hands and rolling away. Fixit didn't have reinforced plating or armoured joints and he cried out in a blurt of pained static as the spray of bullets hit him, a couple managing to punch through to the protoform underneath, energon dripping down onto Russell from at least one severed fuel-line.

“Fixit!”

The soldier's response to seeing Fixit was to fire again, obviously not seeing him as much of a threat. What none of them expected to happen was Soundwave abruptly _unfolding_ from beneath the tarp to his full height and backhanding the closest one into the ground.

The blow would have made a warframe stumble. The human was not so robust. He was flung backwards in a spray of fine pink droplets, practically turned inside out from the force of it. The other one stumbled back, scrambling away. With one long stride Soundwave stepped over the wreckage of what had been a person and over to Fixit and Russell. A data-cable struck unerringly behind him, piercing through the second soldier and flinging the remains away.

Everyone else snapped out of their shock and the scrapyard exploded into violence. More troops ran over, firing at Soundwave, and he crouched over their prone forms, deflecting the bullets away from Fixit with the flat planes of his arms. Both data-cables were out now, moving with lethal quickness until they retreated back out of his deceptively long range. Fixit struggled to remain upright beneath him, frantically scanning Russell over for any injuries. He was curled in a ball on the ground, frozen in place and shaking, staring at the scattered mangled remains, but at least the blood spattered over him didn't appear to have come from any wounds.

“Russell! _Russ-zzzzzl-_ ”

Other engines were roaring to life now, the rest of the Autobots breaking cover to defend their teammates. Denny was sprinting over to Russell, heedless of the soldiers in the way, or the Decepticon standing over him, when he found himself suddenly grabbed and pulled to the side by Jetstorm and Slipstream. They shoved him into Drift's front seat, who then slammed the door in on him. They didn't waste time responding to his yells, knowing their master would explain, and headed for Russell and Fixit themselves, skirting round the firing line and approaching Soundwave at a cautious speed. In response he simply reached over and tucked them next to Fixit beneath his arms.

“It is safe for my students to approach Soundwave. It is not currently safe for you.”

“Drift _that's my **son!**_ ”

He rammed an elbow into the door window to no effect, then leant back, tucking his legs up, and kicked at it with both feet. It still didn't shatter – though their bodies might resemble Earth vehicles, the components they were made of were far, far stronger. Drift didn't protest, even though it must have still hurt, instead keeping out of the line of fire with Denny protected from harm inside him.

Jetstorm's voice crackled over his comm and he patched it through to his 'radio' for Denny's benefit.

_-“Master Drift, please inform Denny that Master Russell appears uninjured.”-_

Denny sighed deeply, one source of panic lessening somewhat. He sat up on the seat to try and see what was happening. Fixit was only partially visible underneath Soundwave's crouched form, and there was a glimpse of blue that must be Russell's shirt. Slipstream and Jetstorm were in front, trying to cover the gaps in Soundwave's shielding arms with their own bodies. The remaining soldiers had backed out of range of his data-cables and were laying down suppressive fire to prevent him from any attempts at advancing, and he could not fire back without moving his arm up.

Strongarm was still by Bumblebee, alternating between trying to rouse him and firing careful shots at the ground in front of them in an attempt to get them to retreat without killing anyone. Likewise Sideswipe was trying to use his body as a barrier, stomping the ground and waving his arms as if he were herding chickens, with as much success. Both were struggling to bring themselves to physically attack humans, having spent so long defending them.

“What is even going on, why are they attacking us!”

“I do not know, but I suspect our guests to be a possible reason.”

One of the soldiers near the helicopter raised a long tube to his shoulder, and fired. Something hit Sideswipe in the back and he screamed, electricity arcing over and through him. The charge blew through his systems, forcing them into a hard reset and he toppled over, luckily not on top of anyone. Grimlock hauled him up, pulling him away from the advancing soldiers. Both he and Megatron had only just arrived on the scene, Grim having initially been watching Megatron as he was told, before panicking and running over to defend his teammates.

The appearance of two more Cybertronians, especially two of their height, was sending consternation running through the commanders. The general and the black-suited man looked like they were arguing, the tracking device being waved in Megatron's direction. He moved towards them and they fired again.

An EMP device hit him in the chest, latched onto his plating and discharged the same web of electricity that had downed Sideswipe. It crackled through his frame with no effect other than what was left of his corrupted HUD managing to spit out a few garbled error messages before giving up entirely.

Once the electrical pulse had finished, he removed it from his frame with a contemptuous flick of a claw, turning and advancing on the knot of humans by the helicopter that had fired on him. They obviously hadn't expected him to still be on his feet because they were starting to break now, falling back and boarding the copter while yelling commands.

He reached them in five steps, claws just missing the landing gear of the copter as it rose and turned away. Megatron watched them go. He _should_ , he thought, want to chase them down and rip them apart – an enemy left behind was an enemy that would shoot you in the back later. But... Looking behind him, he assessed the situation. The Autobots were disorganised and demoralised, two of their number injured. They would be easy prey, especially as none of them had been able to bring themselves to harm the humans and any secondary attack would being greater numbers and firepower. The little voice in his head that, if he was honest with himself (and he refused to), was starting to sound like Starscream reminded him that Optimus would provide aid, and he did owe them some form of debt, he supposed.

He turned away, leaving the pair of helicopters to escape.

They had been prepared for their quarry, not for a whole group of them that certainly looked like they'd been entrenched there for a number of years. Someone, or some _thing_ had obviously tampered with their surveillance. As they reached the treeline and relative safety, the man in black dialled rapidly into his phone, not giving the person on the other end of the line a chance to speak before he growled into the handset.

“Get me Agent Darby – inform him that Skywatch has been compromised.”

-

The replacement arm Shockwave had made for him wasn't much to look at, but it was just about functional and that was the important thing. It was essentially a pole with a gripper at the end but he could actually hold things properly again.

Starscream paced up and down Skyfire's lab, little eddies of rust particles whirling round him as he moved. Things were progressing nicely with his contacts so far, but he was getting that feeling again. He'd lived this long by listening to it, he wasn't going to stop now even if there was no obvious source this time. Things like oncoming storms, being watched, times when it _really_ wasn't safe to push Megatron.

It was a prickling over his wing sensors and it made him really want to argue with someone. Shockwave was still too useful to risk turning on, so he fell back on his new favourite habit – needling Ultra Magnus.

The demands to know his identity got more and more secondary as their ongoing debate progressed and Magnus got more invested in the conversation – he'd even started citing sources for his arguments.

Starscream hadn't meant to enjoy it so much either. He'd only really intended to get clarification on certain legal areas, and then as a way of blowing off steam and distracting himself when the need to fly got hard to ignore. But Ultra Magnus was actually reading what he sent and giving it his attention in a way that Starscream hadn't experienced for a long time. So many people dismissed his ideas or thoughts simply because it was he that said them, it made the opposite rather refreshing. He also was quite surprised at some of the similarities between the Decepticon Charter and what Magnus claimed was part of the Autobot Code of Conduct.

He plugged one of his precious power-cells into his communications pad and started typing.
    
    
    [Your defence of Tarn is appreciated]

While waiting for a reply he turned his attentions to another project – a long-distance signaller modified from an antique distress beacon that was lying around. The pad pinged a few minutes later.
    
    
    [You are welcome to give your appreciation in person.]

The thought of taking him up on that and just waltzing into the Primal Basilica made him laugh.
    
    
    [Why bother you are losing support]
    
    [A city should not be paved over because of the actions of some of its citizens.
    Councillor Metalhawk also agrees.]

He'd been the only one, or the only one who had also stood up about it. At least as far as had been reported in the newsnet article about the decision on expanding Iacon's borders that Starscream had found.
    
    
    [will Iacon build over other cities or just Decepticon ones]
    
    [Such a motion has not been proposed as of yet.
    Would Decepticons rebuild Autobot cities?]
    
    [Some cities are more worthy of saving than others]
    
    [Praxus?]

Starscream scowled. Either that had been a lucky shot in the dark or Ultra Magnus had guessed who his contact was, or at least what city he hailed from. He resisted the urge to reply with a resounding negative or a rant on how Praxus ought to be buried for good, and turned the pad off. It was distracting him anyway! And he had to conserve power.

He preened a little to compose himself, and got back to work on the beacon. That feeling was still there, and he needed to make his move before someone else did it for him. So he'd need either a miracle or a way to attract free Decepticon forces back to Cybertron, and he'd never been one to believe in miracles.

-

The Autobots were milling around as he walked over, the younger ones looking like they were in shock. That wasn't a problem he'd had to deal with since very early on in the war, but he fell back on what he'd found to be the best solution back then: making them so busy they didn't have time to think.

“You – dinobot – secure a perimeter.”

Grimlock only hesitated for a moment before transforming and stomping off, reassured that at least someone was taking charge of the situation. Megatron headed over to Bumblebee, where Strongarm was trying to get him up, supporting him as he didn't have the energy to stand by himself. He wasn't responsive, and she glared at him as he approached, whatever nascent trust had built up was already gone.

“That's close enough, _Decepticon_.”

Before that could escalate further, they were interrupted by Drift, who flicked his headlights on and off to get their attention.

“Megatron. Your assistance is needed over here.”

They looked over to where Soundwave was still crouching over the minicons, preventing them from moving away when they tried. Megatron knew better than to approach, instead straightening up and calling over in a commanding tone.

“ **Soundwave**.”

For a long moment he did not react. Megatron waited, projecting the aura of someone who knew he would be obeyed without question. He did not repeat himself – to do so would be to show that he was unsure of his spy-master's continuing loyalty. Either Soundwave would recall his place, or he would not.

Suddenly he stood and walked to Megatron, stepping over the three minicons and Russell as if they didn't exist or were beneath his notice, behaviour back to normal. Both Decepticons ignored the touching scene behind them as Denny bolted out of Drift to fall next to Russell and gather him in his arms, and Drift transformed to comfort his own students, kneeling down with a hand on their shoulders as he spoke to them. Fixit patted Russell and Denny then made his way painfully to Strongarm and Bumblebee. All of them gave Soundwave a wide berth. Megatron pointed to the sphere, still lying where it had rolled.

“Examine the human's weapon. I want to know where it came from and how they got it.”

With his normal silent efficiency, Soundwave reached a cable over and picked it up, dropping it into his hands as he examined it. The only concession he made to having been nearly one with the AllSpark only a few days ago was to sit back down again, out of the way of everyone else.

Megatron stepped back as well. There wasn't much else he could do to be helpful, except from guard-duty with Grimlock, and he'd much rather consider his own actions over the past half an hour, like why he'd let the remaining humans go rather than killing them. It was no more than they deserved, it wasn't like organics counted as _people_. Without realising, he was watching the interactions of the Autobot's pet humans as he thought.

“It's okay Rusty, shh...”

Denny held him tight to his chest as he cried, rocking gently as he shook, eyes squeezed shut. There was a faint whiff of burnt circuitry and Sideswipe bent over and gently picked them both up in a hand. He carried them back over to the living area and kitchen, away from the corpses.

“Thanks.”

Sides smiled in response, with none of his usual bravado. He lowered himself carefully next to them, moving slowly – if he had been human it would have looked as if he had arthritis.

“How are you holding up?”

His voice was low and crackly, the electrical shock having damaged his vocaliser as well as most of his other systems and his self-repair hadn't yet gotten to it. Denny lent against his leg, cradling Russell gently. He got the impression that Sideswipe was as desperate for reassurance and comfort as Russell was, and he patted his knee cautiously.

“I don't know. Not good. What happens now?”

“Don't know...”

Sideswipe put a hand down by them, fingers curling round protectively. They fell into silence, watching Strongarm and Fixit work on Bumblebee.

-

Barricade's engine was running at a sulky grumble as he scrubbed the walkway outside Nyon's Enforcer building. Someone had scrawled graffiti all over the windows and wall, with what Bluestreak had said was the logo for these 'Decepticons' people kept yelling at him about. That wouldn't be so bad (it wasn't the first time), but this time Prowl had caught them doing it – they'd dropped the paint can in their panic to get away and it had gone _everywhere_. Said culprits trooped out of the front door, followed by Prowl, and got to work helping to remove the paint under his watchful glare.

“Barricade.”

He jumped, door-wings jerking up in a shaky salute, still not fully comfortable in his frame or well-versed in the 'wing-language' developed in Praxus during the Golden Age.

“Sir?”

“You may take the rest of this duty-shift off. I expect this mess will be removed by tomorrow.”

“Yes sir. See you tomorrow, sir.”

He didn't stick around for a more involved goodbye, honestly more than a little terrified of his quiet, constantly irritated-looking superior, and trotted off to the hi-rise building he had a habsuite in. He didn't really know anywhere to go for fun, or have anyone to meet or call, so he figured he may as well continue studying law theory and history, then get some extra recharge.

Lost in thought, he didn't see the pair walking towards him on the same walkway until he was practically on top of them. He recognised them as the pair that had been talking to Bluestreak when he'd arrived in Nyon with the councillors, and they obviously recognised him too because one of them elbowed the other and nodded at him.

Remembering that Bluestreak had told him he ought to try and make some friends, his brain struggled to think of something witty or interesting to say, panicked, and instead blurted out:

“I like your paint!”

They both stopped and stared, and he mentally face-palmed, feeling like an idiot. Then the little red one with the flames broke into a massive grin.

“Thanks, I like it as well! Springer helped with my back, this is Springer by the way, he can turn into two different things which is really cool so I wanted to look cool as well and-”

The bigger green mech – Springer – nudged his friend gently. Perhaps realising he was becoming aggressively enthusiastic, he halted mid-flow and held out a hand, smiling welcomingly.

“My name's Hot Rod. It's nice to meet you again.”

“Barricade. Likewise.”

He shook the hand, tension he didn't realise was there disappearing. Perhaps not everyone who lived here was horrible.

-

Everything was black.

He couldn't see, couldn't move, couldn't _speak_ \- no no no _nonoNO **NONONO-**_

With a squeal of stressed over-heated metal his t-cog engaged and Bumblebee forced himself back into root-mode, HUD redlining as he fell forwards.

Strongarm caught him and carefully lowered him to the ground so Fixit could reach. They'd rigged up a rudimentary energon-line and were carefully replenishing his drained systems.

“What could have even done this? It's like they were draining his life out.”

She'd thought it was a rhetorical, unanswerable question, so Megatron's words startled her, both of them looking over to where he was standing next to Soundwave, rolling the military's sphere in his claws.

“It's an energon harvester. I was under the impression the one found on Earth had been destroyed, or so Starscream claimed in his report, so I'm not sure how they engineered this.”

Soundwave pulled up an image of a detonation on his visor, confirming that the seeker had been truthful that time.

“They were developed in the 'Golden Age', intended to revolutionise energon mining. Put a lot of mines out of business, Then when the lower castes starting getting 'uppity' they were hidden offworld, so we couldn't use them. Such a thing might have changed the course of the war.”

The implications of something that could suck out their life's blood from a distance being used as a weapon sunk in, as did who exactly was currently holding it.

“That's why... we destroyed it...”

Bee's voice was faint, he struggled to sit up.

“Give it here.”

Megatron eyed him up and down. He smirked faintly, at some inner thought, or perhaps at the notion of handing a weapon to an enemy.

“I might be mad, warrior, but I'm not foolish.”

He tossed it hard upwards. At the apex of its momentum Soundwave clicked his blaster out of his arm plating and shot it three times. It exploded in a wave of dispersing blue energy, utterly destroyed.

“Because _that_ won't attract even more attention.”

Strongarm huffed, hiding her relief under exasperation. She helped Bumblebee to his feet and over to where Sideswipe, Denny and Russell were seated. Drift had sat nearby patching up Fixit, having had experience fixing wounded minicons.

“Denny, I... I'm sorry.”

Denny did his best to smile, face still pale and haunted.

“Hey, Bee, it's... well it's not really okay, but it's not your fault. You guys have been here for ages and nothing like this has happened before.”

“I made the decision to stay here, your safety is my responsibility. I don't know if they were part of one of your governments or- or other people, but I do know they didn't get what they came here for and now they know where we are.”

“You think they'll come back?”

Denny sighed, hand running gently over Russell's head.

“Bee, they shot at my son. They were going to kill him, just like that.”

“I know. When I was stationed on Earth the first time, we had some human allies that we had to take into safekeeping. I would be honoured to offer you the same protection. However, it would mean abandoning the scrapyard, potentially for a significant amount of time.”

“Christ. What am I going to tell his mother.”

He looked over to where someone had covered the dead men with the tarp, then to Soundwave.

“The police aren't going to accept 'giant alien robot' as a cause of death, right. Okay. What's the plan?”

“There's a, well, there's somewhere I know, that we can take you. The people there know about us, and I think they'd be happy to help you.”

“Hear that, Rusty? It'll be like a holiday.”

For once Russell didn't protest the nickname, looking at Bee with red-rimmed eyes.

“What about you guys? You're coming too, right?”

Bumblebee hesitated, sighing heavily.

“It's something I'd need to discuss with them first. There are... other considerations.”

He was picking his words carefully, aware that both Megatron and Soundwave could hear him.

“We've been keeping this place secret, keeping it _safe_ , for a long time. Optimus said, under no circumstances were they to be involved in our war. It's why I never mentioned it before.”

Denny nodded, now more than convinced of what danger both their Decepticons posed.

“You don't want to bring them to this place. And if you don't, that means the rest of you need to stay here too, to keep them in hand.”

“Exactly. Hopefully they only found us here because of, well, Megatron's 'indiscreetness', and don't have a real form of tracking our life signals.”

Having been patched up by Drift, Fixit came over, followed by Grimlock. When he was in arm's reach, Denny pulled him into a bear-hug.

“ _Thank you so much._ ”

Fixit looked delighted at the praise and he struggled to keep his voice sounding casual.

“Just doing my duty as an Autobot. You are welcome, Denny Clay, I'm glad to see you are both unhurt.”

“What I've been thinking though, is they would have-you know- if Soundwave hadn't... attacked like that. And, _why?_ He didn't do that when he came out the first time. What made him feel more threatened now rather than then?”

Bee shifted uneasily, door-wings flickering. Most Decepticons, like Starscream and Megatron, considered humans so beneath their notice to not even bother threatening them save as a way of getting to the Autobots. Even when Megatron had nearly killed Raf it had been more of an added bonus – he'd been aiming at Bumblebee.

But Soundwave had come into conflict with his friends more regularly and had only ever done enough to secure his objective rather than attacking them even when given the opportunity. What made Russell being shot at more enraging than being thwarted by Raf or taunted by Miko- he belatedly realised that Fixit was talking.

“-think I can answer that question lieutenant – when I gave Soundwave a medical scan a few days ago I noticed that a significant lumbar- _zzt_ - **number** of his docking ports were registering as offline so it's likely-”

“ _That_ is no one's business but Soundwave's.”

Megatron bluntly interrupted him, striding over. He looked angry – actually angry, as well. It was interesting, Bumblebee thought, that he displayed more genuine emotions when it came to defending Soundwave than he did when explaining himself or otherwise in conversation – then his reactions had been a little delayed, as if he kept having to remind himself of how he should be acting. Bumblebee got carefully to his feet, spreading out his door-wings for help with his balance.

“Megatron, a word in private please.”

They walked off together, round the corner of one of the aisles of shelving.

“Look, I need to know what set him off, so I can make sure it doesn't happen again. Unless you have a ship somewhere you can both leave on?”

“I have no ship, I have no need or access to one.”

“Then what was your plan for leaving? I didn't think Soundwave was rated for deep space.”

Megatron's mouth opened and closed and he turned away, a clawtip digging at his plating. After a moment he bit out:

“I had not considered that point when I decided to return here.”

 _Awesome._ Bumblebee rubbed at his face and helm, venting out sharply.

“Alright. Well I need to get Denny and Russell somewhere safe, as well as my team, and while you and Soundwave are on this planet you are not leaving my sight, so I need to bring you two as well. I need you to swear that _no matter what_ neither you or Soundwave will do _anything_ without my express permission.”

“And do you expect me to keep my word?”

“It would be more helpful if you did.”

He heard a slight huff of air through vents that might have been a sigh.

“Very well.”

“So, what did Fixit mean? What ports?”

Megatron paced a few steps away, hands clasped behind his back, but he did speak.

“Soundwave is a carrier-frame. After... 'losing' his own symbionts, he sometimes acts... _erratically_ around others. After certain incidents I transferred the _Nemesis_ ' complement of minicons to other ships before initially arriving on this planet. It's possible this would repeat were one of them again be injured in front of him.”

Bumblebee nodded, a little surprised and gratified by the detail of the answer.

“Is that why Laserbeak was listed as a surveillance drone?”

Megatron inclined his head, turning back to look at him.

“ _Drones_ don't get tortured for information.”

Bumblebee's expression went flat, voice clipped and angry.

“ _Autobots_ don't torture prisoners.”

He looked a little nonplussed at the severity of his reaction, before his expression cleared and he waved a hand in the direction of the others.

“Is that all you wished to ask?”

Bumblebee nodded and watched him leave, not trusting himself to speak. That reaction was quite surprising and also a bit enlightening. He had _never_ known Megatron to say anything off-handedly – every word was always carefully chosen for maximum effect to cause pain or offence. That he hadn't expected Bee's reaction meant two things: that he hadn't been referring to the scout's own 'interrogation', and that he hadn't intended any insult. It went into the rapidly growing mental list Bee had of ways he was acting strangely, not at all like the tyrant he remembered.

Door-wings stretched out then relaxed and he tried to centre himself. He had a call to make, and a lot of explanations to give. He didn't try hoping it was the right thing to do, but it was the only available option he could think of.

-

Deep in space, the Decepticon war vessel _Retribution_ was entering Cybertron's star system when it picked up a looping broadcast on the Decepticon High Command emergency frequency and slowed its approach. 

Defensive shielding activated, the crew altered course towards the coordinates contained in the message, and prepared for their first view of home since the exodus, and to make contact with their Commander without alerting the oppressors that now held their planet.


	6. The Strangest of Places

“Russell, I'm gonna go pack clothes and stuff, you okay here?”

“Uh-huh.”

Denny gave him another hug before getting up and heading inside, muttering lists of things they'd need under his breath. Russell leant back against Sideswipe who reached out a hand to pick him up before hesitating, unsure.

“It's okay, I don't mind.”

“Sorry. I just didn't... I never realised before how sma- how _fragile_ you guys are.”

He touched a careful finger to Russell's arm, voice still a little crackly. Russell pulled himself up using Side's hand as leverage and climbed into his lap.

“We're okay. Bee and my dad will fix everything.”

“Yeah.”

They watched the others gather up the defence installations around the scrapyard, piling up anything Cybertronian. Grimlock and Strongarm had refused to let Sideswipe help and had told him to just sit and recover. He'd protested but was inwardly grateful. Although no one said it out loud, no one wanted Russell out of arm's reach of a 'bot. Just in case.

After finishing his phone-call, Bumblebee had been bullied into resting by Strongarm as well and he was sat near to where she was working. From here Sides and Russell couldn't hear what they were saying, but from Bee's expression maybe it hadn't gone well.

What wouldn't fit in subspace was piling up into groups of various necessity. What they couldn't bring with them, they'd have to destroy. To everyone's politely hidden surprise, Megatron was assisting the clean up – he didn't want any more tech falling into human hands either. The species had had far too much contact with it as it was. Everyone was avoiding the bloodstained ground near the lumps under the tarp.

Fixit had been attempting to get all the data stored on the console downloaded, or figure out a way to disassemble it for transportation. It had been slow going up until Soundwave had simply jacked in with a data-cable and started downloading a copy of the contents to his own system. He was far too big to fit inside the command centre with Fixit so he was stood outside with his head ducked in. It meant that he was looking at the keyboard upside down but that didn't seem to impact his efficiency at all. Bee was keeping a careful eye on them – he didn't want a repeat of the earlier incident – but everyone was working well together.

It was a bit creepy really, how much the Decepticons were listening to him and doing as he said. He knew from Ratchet's stories that Megatron had once been a gladiator and so presumably valued strength, and he could guess from their conversation the previous day that because Bumblebee had killed him he was considered a sort-of equal. How much of it was a trick and how much of it was sincere, that was the problem. How much had five years of floating in space with nothing to do but think _actually_ changed him. Not enough to be safe around humans.

It could be worse. Soundwave at least accepted Megatron's new direction without complaint or arguments about working with enemies. Thank the Primes _Starscream_ hadn't shown up out of nowhere too, the pair probably would have killed each other by now.

Of course that didn't mean it couldn't still get worse, especially as he'd been hung up on before he could actually explain properly. To be fair, Chief had said they'd be there as soon as possible first, and there had been the sound of something crashing in the background. But that had been twenty minutes ago and he was now on his fourth round of second-guessing himself

_'I shouldn't be getting them involved. I just need to get Denny and Russell somewhere. If I can just keep the Decepticons away from them until they leave again...'_

Just then, he received an incoming call from Heatwave.

_-We're landing now. Can you keep a clear space until we de-cloak?-_

_-Did something happen to your groundbridge?-_

_-Nah, but it only goes to the mainland training centre.-_

_-Oh? Hang on.-_

That didn't sound right, but it wasn't like he was a proper groundbridge technician or anything. If he'd known though, he would have waited before they'd disassembled their own and saved them a trip. He waved to get everyone's attention.

“Okay guys, there's a ship coming in stealthed so keep out of the main area until it lands – we don't want any accidents. And try to stay inconspicuous until I've had a chance to talk to them – any delays increases the possibility of humans noticing.”

There was a shimmering in the air as the _Sigma_ passed overhead and landed. The ship appeared as the hatch and ramp opened, the occupants disembarked and Bumblebee got up to meet them, door-wings flared in greeting.

“Hey Bumblebee, sorry I hung up on you, we were having a bit of an... issue... with the traffic lights.”

“Chief Burns. Thanks for coming so quickly, but there's still some things I need to explain-”

“Don't worry about it – helping people is what we do. I thought it was best if we didn't all show up at once, so the others are preparing things at the firehouse. Blades is ecstatic.”

“I would have said insufferable.” Heatwave growled good-naturedly. Bee could accurately guess his partner's reaction, based on the other times he'd visited Griffin Rock, and smiled. He tried to unobtrusively move them away from the others, he still needed to explain that only Denny and Russell would be staying.

“If I could just have a quick word-”

“Get behind me!”

Heatwave lunged to the side, putting himself between Chief and Kade, and Megatron (who obviously must think that staying inconspicuous only applied to _other people_ ), and attacking the threat in the only way he could. The high pressure jet of water struck Megatron in the face and he stopped mid-stride, more out of disbelief that this had actually happened rather than any damage caused.

Bumblebee ran as fast as still-weakened systems would let him. He reached Megatron as he was lunging forwards and grabbed onto his arm, forcing it down.

“ **Don't**. They are civilians, they have no weaponry, they are _not a threat_.”

Over Megatron's shoulder he could see that Soundwave was watching them. He hadn't disconnected his data cables from the console yet but he had stopped typing, turned round to face them. He needed to defuse the situation quickly, and was uncomfortably reminded that Megatron might have agreed to let Bumblebee handle things, but _Soundwave_ hadn't.

Refusing to let himself stumble even when his sensory panels on his door-wings started registering vertigo, he hissed upwards at the ex-warlord, quiet enough that no one else could hear, apart from probably Soundwave.

_“You gave me your word.”_

Megatron choked down a retort, stepped back and brushed imaginary dirt from his plating where Bee had grabbed him. The insult was wasted on him though, because he was too busy being relieved watching as Soundwave resumed his work. However no one had given Bumblebee their word to be civil, either.

“Your insignia is... _interesting_. I wasn't aware there were any active Rescue teams still in operation.”

“Yeah you want a reason for that, _look in a mirror_ ,” Heatwave started on Bumblebee next. “Why the frag do you have Decepticons running around! You think they're coming anywhere near Griffin Rock outside of a stasis-cell, you-”

“Of _course_ I don't! If you would all let me explain-!”

While Chief Burns tried to get the pair calmed down and actually listening to each other, Kade simply left them to it, heading over to the kid they'd been told about. He was easily spotted, on top of another red bot's shoulder.

“Hey, name's Kade. I have a little brother who's only a few years older than you, who wants to show you guys around Griffin Rock.”

Russell didn't respond, watching him cautiously. Kade didn't push him on it, instead sitting down beside Sideswipe and leaning back to look up at the both of them. He also didn't mention the way Sideswipe's plating bristled defensively, although the Autobot tried to hide it with a shrug.

Kade had been living with the Rescue Bots as part of his family for years now, and he wasn't as unobservant as he sometimes made himself out to be. He could see how strained they all looked, they were all still in shock. So he kept his movements slow and non-threatening, and his voice calm, like he'd been trained to do with members of the public. 

“So, you're going to be staying with us for a bit. Some of you bots might have to sleep in the garage but we'll work something out.”

Again it was only Sideswipe that offered a response.

“Actually I think we're travelling somewhere else. Gotta keep an eye on that guy.”

He pointed at Megatron, who was standing next to Bumblebee while he, Heatwave and Chief argued that very point. _That_ got a reaction from Russell.

“Hey what do you mean you're staying behind? You can't just leave!”

Sides shrugged again, careful not to dislodge the boy perched on his shoulder.

“It's what Bee told us – Decepticons are too dangerous to be so close to humans. You know that.”

“Yeah but... these ones haven't done anything like that.”

Russell sighed. It was true that he remembered Megatron dropping into their middle and shrugging off attacks like they were nothing, and Soundwave hurling Bumblebee into the Shadowzone and nearly singlehandedly beating everyone else. But he also remembered the dark plates that were Soundwave's arms blocking him and Fixit from being hurt as he crouched over them, and how much Megatron had cared for the other Decepticon while he was unconscious.

“Don't worry I'll talk to Bee. And Heatwave. After some of the Professor's gadgets, a couple of bots with pointy-bits is a piece of cake.”

He caught Russell's eye and gave him a thumbs up. The kid smiled back briefly, but he still didn't look all that happy. Kade cast about for a way of subtly changing the topic of conversation.

“So, who's that guy anyway? Seems pretty angry right now.”

“Oh, he's Megatron I guess.”

That didn't explain anything, and Kade glanced at Russell for clarification, who just shrugged. Sides looked a little confused at their incomprehension.

“You know, Megatron. The 'don't break any of these stupid rules or Megatron will eat you', _that_ Megatron.”

“Thought that was a giant space monster?”

“Well that would just be ridiculous.”

Meanwhile things over by the _Sigma_ had managed to calm a little once both Heatwave and Bumblebee realised they were arguing the same point, and they were now trying to convince Chief Burns that actually it was a great idea for them to just take Denny and Russell.

“Look, I get what you're saying, but I'm still not comfortable with the idea of just leaving you all in trouble. Some of your team, you included, look injured.”

“Okay I admit it's not ideal, and probably if they weren't here we would at least stay for a few days. But I _can't_ bring Decepticons so close to a population centre, even one that already knows about Cybertron.”

“He's right: Decepticons are the ones that destroyed Cybertron in the first place. They're dangerous.”

Chief folded his arms, frowning at them both.

“But these two have been here for a few days already you said, without harming anyone.”

“Yes but, these two are- _very_ dangerous.”

He hesitated on naming them, aware that Heatwave would probably explode if he knew exactly who they were. Luckily he didn't actually know what Megatron's new frame looked like even though he would recognise the names.

“I do know about Decepticons, Optimus explained about your war and why he needed somewhere safe for you. But I also know that if this had happened to one of my kids, I'd want you bots to come with to keep protecting them. And they have been pretty close to Crown City without anything happening.”

Bumblebee did see where he was coming from, but before he could reply, Megatron stepped forwards and back into the conversation. He stared down from his full height at this human who suddenly knew a lot more than he should.

“You've met Optimus Prime.”

“About seven years ago, yes.”

Bee could practically in his eyes see the moment when Megatron put two and two together. He whirled round on Soundwave, because Prime was _dead_ and the human was either lying or-

“There's been a second Autobot base on this planet for _how long_ and you _**didn't** inform me?!_ ”

At the command console, Soundwave froze, then disconnected his cables and walked towards them. He knelt before Megatron, head lowered and visor aimed downwards at the ground.

_/Information/not requested/_

Guilt thrummed through his frame body-language – this was really only the thinnest of technicalities that he had not explicitly lied to his lord, something he found distressing. Drift and Strongarm moved cautiously closer, braced to get Chief Burns away from the imminent explosion of temper, or violence.

Megatron stomped forwards, arm raised and claws curled into a fist. Soundwave didn't move, just waited to be struck. His acceptance, so different to Starscream's reactions, pierced through the rage and drained it away, replaced with an awful awareness of what he was doing, what he had nearly done.

He stepped back abruptly, claws flexing open and closed, then stalked away to the far end of the scrapyard, still in eyesight but the intent to be alone was obvious. Everyone in the vicinity of the control console relaxed slightly, getting back to work. Soundwave watched after him for a moment more before resuming his task, slender digits tapping over the keys. Charlie reached out and patted his lower leg, as high up as the human could reach. 

“Thank you, for protecting Griffin Rock from your war.”

Soundwave did not acknowledge the touch or words physically, but after a moment he played another string of audio clips.

_/Thanks/not necessary/use of/resource/wasteful/and a high chance of/increasing/AUTOBOT-/retaliation/out/weigh/civilian targets/_

“Well, even so, thanks for not 'wasting resources' on us.”

He nodded, smiling up at the slender mech, and headed back over to Heatwave and Bumblebee. Kade made his way over a few minutes after, waving back to Russell and Sideswipe.

“So, we're taking everyone then?”

Before either Bee or Heatwave could start up with the 'see this is exactly what we're talking about', Chief began talking.

“When Optimus first contacted me about having bots in Griffin Rock, he went through several worse-case scenarios of being discovered, including what other Cybertronians were capable of. Now I know I haven't seen any of this first-hand like you have, Bumblebee, but I do know about it and I am making an informed decision.”

“Chief-”

“Furthermore, it seems there's at least some people on the other side who also wanted, essentially, to not involve the Rescue Bots. Why don't all of you stay for just a few days? You can make sure everything's sorted, then if you still feel it necessary you can travel on later.”

“I...”

Bumblebee hesitated, looking at his team. The only one who looked like they weren't affected by what had happened that day was Drift, but that was more likely down to Drift's control over his emotions. Their two Decepticons wouldn't be able to hide or travel in alt-mode – they'd have to walk. And if Soundwave was still as unsteady as Bee was feeling right now, they wouldn't get far, not enough to be a safe distance away when their attackers returned with reinforcements. He sighed, door-wings wilting downwards with the ex-vent.

“Only for a few days. And only if you're sure.”

Heatwave was still growling but he nodded his head as well, eyes narrowed.

“We help people even if we don't like them. But if they do _anything_ , I am holding your team responsible.”

Bumblebee accepted the threat as fair warning – he was holding himself responsible too. He tried to think he was doing the best he could in the circumstances, but even the knowledge that Soundwave had known the entire time and also protected their secret was little comfort. At least, he thought, there wasn't really anywhere else in the world that a giant robot dinosaur would fit in better than Griffin Rock.

-

A small short-range shuttle slipped out from the sensor shadow of one of Cybertron's moons. It left behind the _Retribution_ , carefully maintaining an orbit that would keep the moon between the ship and any scanners or radar on the surface of the planet.

The shuttle entered the atmosphere beyond the horizon from Iacon to further minimise detection, before being piloted to the co-ordinates contained in the beacon's message. It took some time to reach, but eventually it landed within the ring round the rubble of the Winglord's Spire in the centre of Vos. The door-ramp folded down and the sole occupant disembarked.

“General.”

“Commander.”

They exchanged nods, and then Starscream gestured Strika over to the ground entrance to the lab, shoving more loose sheeting out of the way to accommodate the tankformer's bigger frame.

“We received your communication. Is Lord Megatron with you?”

She ducked inside, rapidly adjusting to the darkness. He still didn't have power to spare on lighting but most Decepticons were equipped with at least some form of low-light vision.

“I'm afraid I can't offer much in the way of a proper meeting room but please pull up a box and make yourself comfortable.”

Strika sat cautiously, relaxed when the crate held her weight, and pulled some datapads from subspace, arraying them on the table surface in front of her. Starscream sat opposite her, appearing as casual as he could and trying to keep the odd mixture of elation and desperation out of his expression and frame-language. There were worse Decepticon elite he could have managed to attract, but Strika owed him no personal loyalty whatsoever. He'd need to be careful to get her interested without arousing suspicions.

“Lord Megatron is not currently present, at this moment.”

“I see. Is this why we are meeting here rather than in Kaon? My ship's sensors indicated that Darkmount is rebuilt.”

“There is a bit of a... pest problem in Darkmount, at the moment. As you can see, Vos still has some structural integrity.”

She was watching him, a fingertip tapping on the tabletop. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure if Megatron's little spat over his rank as Second in Command had ever been broadcast to the rest of the fleet. Hopefully that wasn't going to be a problem.

“And is Soundwave also not present?”

“Soundwave? ... unfortunately, Soundwave went offline in the final battle with the Autobots.”

“Ah. That is a great loss.”

It took Starscream a second to realise she wasn't being sarcastic and he quickly made what he hoped was an appropriately _sad_ expression.

“Indeed.”

After a pause, he started steering the conversation back on course.

“What news from the rest of the Empire?”

“Frankly it's a mess.”

Her vents all released air at once, a full-bodied sigh. Strika pushed one of her own datapads across the table to Starscream.

“After Cybertron was revitalised, we received an Autobot transmission on all hailing frequencies that the war had ended and that Lord Megatron had ordered us all to step down and submit to custody. Of course we did not take their word for it but, as more time passed and Lord Megatron did not appear, many of the outlying sectors have either been overrun, seceded or fallen into chaos.”

He nodded, scrolling through the report as she spoke. From the lists it seemed that almost all of the Decepticon colonies that hadn't either surrendered or been captured by the Autobots had instead declared themselves independent territories. With five years of a missing and presumed dead leader, the entire Decepticon army had collapsed into infighting and splinter-factions as a new crop of would-be warlords carved their own pieces of the pie. It was almost trivial for the united Cybertron Council forces to steamroll over them.

“My team and I have been rounding up as many loyalists as we could gather. We set out for Cybertron when our supplies started running low. This is my crew list, as well as our extra passengers.”

Strika slid another datapad over. Starscream reached for one of his own datapads and tapped it on, comparing the two side-by-side.

“I've begun making lists of Decepticons currently on Cybertron, as well as others who may be sympathetic. However prison manifests aren't exactly public knowledge, so it's not very extensive.”

Aware that he was being watched impatiently, he glanced up again, wings held at a carefully neutral angle. 

“I have given you my report, that by rights should have been to Megatron. Where is he?”

Clawtips dug a little into the surface of the table, and he pretended to be more interested in them than he was.

“I'm afraid your intel wasn't quite as falsified as you first thought. While he may not have given a direct order to surrender, Lord Megatron made it known quite clearly to me, and unfortunately in Autobot hearing as well, that the war was considered over and that he no longer wanted any part in it. Naturally _**I**_ have respected his wishes, however many of our fellow brethren still languish in imprisonment with their own badges being used as a tool of oppression.”

That seemed to tip the scale and the feeling of looming threat lessened. Strika might be beneath him as a grounder but she was very much bigger than him in frame.

“Starscream, my patience is as thin as your sincerity – what do you mean?”

After pulling up the relevant file on his datapad he flicked it over to her.

“It's common knowledge now, but of course you've been in deep space, my apologies. Simply put, anyone who does not submit to the Autobot symbol are given modified Decepticon badges instead, with tracers in. Anyone who is found guilty of a crime is also given these. Anyone bearing the Decepticon symbol is a criminal, and all criminals now bear the Decepticon symbol.”

There was a crunching sound as her fists clenched round the edge of the table, denting the thick metal. 

“Do you mean to say that they have turned the banner of our Cause into- into a marker for _petty theft?!_ I will slag this planet personally before I accept such a thing!”

“And it would be nothing more than they deserve, of course. But, as valiant as your team are, you- _we_ are still outnumbered and outgunned. There is however a possible way of doing so with diplomatic immunity. Ah, strangling them with their own red-tape, as it were.”

She watched him with narrowed optics as he began outlining his plan. The parts she needed to know, anyway.

-

The flight back to Griffin Rock was only another twenty minutes, but it felt much much longer. When they had finally landed it took a few minutes for everyone to pile out of the _Sigma_ , but soon they were able to take what was for most their first look at their temporary home. 

They were met at the front of the firehouse by the rest of the Rescue Bots and Burnses, and rounds of introductions, thank yous and welcomes quickly disturbed the peaceful evening air. Megatron and Soundwave hung back near the re-cloaked ship. Seven humans was seven humans too many, and he wished they'd get on with it.

They were getting a few odd looks but Chief was explaining the Decepticons' presence and possible danger so no one tried to drag them over into the socialities, even though the little rotary that had glommed onto Bumblebee looked like he wanted to.

But they couldn't stand there forever, and after a few of the new humans had led the Autobot's pair inside the building, and after another round of cautions about behaviour, Bumblebee beckoned them over with his free hand.

The human was still talking but Megatron didn't bother to listen – if anything actually important was said, Soundwave would let him know. Instead he was looking around at the firehouse and grounds, weighing up any kind of visible security systems that might pose a threat (none to speak of) and how irritating the next few days were probably going to be (very).

There was an error tone over his comm array – Soundwave had tried pinging him as the conversation wound up into accommodations and expected behaviour. The feedback his spymaster must have got from his corrupted systems must have been intensely painful because Soundwave swayed slightly, a finger discretely resting on Megatron's elbow to stabilise himself. 

It wasn't enough movement for anyone else to notice, much less accurately guess the level of pain, apart from Megatron who knew him inside and out. So they were both surprised when Bumblebee picked up on it and suggested joining the others inside. He used being hidden from the other citizens' notice as an excuse, but he'd glanced at Soundwave first.

The base below the firehouse was large enough to fit the rescue team with room to spare. Thankfully it could just about fit everyone else too, though while standing both Megatron and Grimlock had to stoop to avoid the ceiling.

The two Decepticons had sat against the wall in an out of the way corner, as much as they could manage in the cramped room with their size of frames. Megatron certainly wasn't going to indulge himself in any ridiculous conversations about friendship and Soundwave, well, was Soundwave. He was tucked slightly behind Megatron's arm between him and the wall – a defensive position and reassuring for both of them – and now he was leaning against him again, the full battle alert he'd been running on having overtaxed his own still recovering systems. At least this time Bumblebee was in a similar state and that was taking up the humans' attentions but Heatwave was still rather obviously staring at them and neither wanted to appear weak in any way while they were being watched by what could be considered a captor.

Grimlock had sat down too, mostly so that he wouldn't step on anything by accident. Drift was standing near him, arms folded as he kept an eye on things. His students had escaped though, and were engrossed by the size of the TV. Once he would have reprimanded them for not maintaining awareness of their surroundings, but he let them be. Everyone had been through a lot recently and they deserved the chance to act their age a little. But he couldn't relax himself. Decepticons like Fracture might not have noticed or cared, but even if Megatron hadn't initially recognised who he used to be, Soundwave would know and he must have told him by now. He watched them, lost in his own thoughts.

The sofa in front of the TV had been colonised – as well as Jetstorm and Slipstream taking up one of the cushions, Fixit had squeezed in the middle with Russell and Cody on the other side. Sideswipe was sat behind it and resting his arms and head on the back as he watched too. It had creaked alarmingly but managed to hold up under the combined weight.

Strongarm and Chase had retreated back next to the groundbridge platform and control, where they could simultaneously watch the Decepticons and have a conversation without disturbing anyone else. Given that every third word appeared to be some kind of regulations number or law, that was probably for the best.

Bee tried his best to relax and listen to what Blades was saying, but it was difficult. He was still waiting for the proverbial hammer to drop. At least he was feeling a bit less like he needed a CR chamber, his self-repair working on the overheated fuel-lines.

From where he was sat he could see Megatron's mouth moving as he spoke to Soundwave too quietly for anyone else to hear. If Soundwave was responding, he gave no physical indication of it. They could be plotting to murder everyone, or maybe they were just having a conversation.

_'Tomorrow. I'll deal with everything tomorrow. We're not staying long, a few days. Right now everyone needs a break. At least Russell seems okay at the moment.'_

He leant tiredly against Blades, tangling their fingers together. The whole thing was bringing back memories he'd rather not think about, of MECH and other events, and he missed Raf.

Maybe he should...

No, that was a bad idea. He'd already promised himself he wouldn't contact those three when he'd first come back to Earth, they deserved a chance at a normal human life. He couldn't drag them into danger again especially as he'd nearly gotten Denny and Russell killed and they'd lost their home. But he wished his human sparkbrother was there anyway. Raf always had an idea of some kind or another, it used to drive Ratchet spare.

Blades put an arm around his shoulders supportively as he leant over a little too far and nearly fell on him.

_'Ngh, better keep awake. Need to keep watch.'_

His optics slid shut anyway, and he struggled to keep them open. He had to sort out where everyone was staying, go over ground-rules, maybe wire some kind of proximity alert to Megatron's head. That mental picture made him smile.

_'Just five more minutes won't hurt...'_

-

Smokescreen was trying to work, but mostly he was staring off into the distance, thinking about the past. It was funny really. He'd been _so_ upset at being assigned guard duty at the Hall of Records rather than going to the front-lines, and now he was running the place. It wasn't exactly something he was qualified for but he owed it to Alpha Trion. And anyway, no one had complained yet.

Right now it was a good distraction, but he still couldn't stop himself from worrying about his friend. Knock Out was extremely difficult to get along with if you didn't know him, and it wasn't _that_ much easier if you did. So the friendship they'd managed to forge out of rivalry was doubly precious to Smokescreen. Maybe it helped that, after inadvertently missing most of the war in stasis, Smokescreen didn't actually know that many other people either which put him on more of an equal footing with the ex-Decepticon. Plus Knock Out's alt-mode was _really cool_.

He finished the last of the assignment forms in his in-tray and leant forwards onto his desk, stretching his door-wings out and back tiredly. He really needed a better chair. Maybe he should leave work early and look for one, there had to be a shop somewhere in the rebuilding city that catered to 'the Praxian frame'. Not that he'd ever been to Praxus, by the time his generation had come out of the Well the city had been in ruins along with the majority of the planet.

But still. A chair he could actually lean back in would be nice. It was a problem he felt he could actually fix, unlike the situation with Knock Out. He hadn't thought the red speedster could get any more conspicuous, until he'd started trying to be _inconspicuous_ and might as well have just glued a neon 'I'm not okay' sign to his chestplates. You couldn't go from not leaving the berthroom for weeks at a time to sneaking out at all hours without someone noticing and Smokescreen wasn't that stupid.

“ _Urgh_ but what if he thinks I don't trust him or something.”

Trouble was he couldn't think of a way to bring it up in conversation without sounding like he was accusing him of something and that would just set off another argument. He would have asked Bee for advice but Bee was... well he wasn't sure what was up with Bee actually. Ratchet would have listened to him, but Ratchet had gone offworld too. And going to any of his other friends with the problem of 'hey the ex-Decepticon that kept trying to kill us multiple times is acting suspiciously' probably wouldn't end well (and might involve wrecking balls or bladed weapons).

“I wish Optimus was here. He'd know what to do...”

“Do what?”

He peeled himself off of the desk, grinning when he saw who it was.

“Oh hey 'Cee. Didn't notice you come in.”

She nodded, perching in the chair he kept for visitors to his office.

“How's things?”

“Oh, they're good. You?”

He surreptitiously removed a magnetic desk organiser that had stuck to his arm, and sat a little straighter. Arcee still had that effect on him even though she'd stopped treating him like a rookie years ago.

“I just thought I'd swing by – the elections are tomorrow, have you considered voting?”

“Yup, did that already. I'm registered for a remote vote, sent it in a few days ago. You want I should remind KO about it?”

Her smile faded a little and she leant forwards with a lowered voice.

“I don't think he can under the new legislation, with his criminal records.”

“Huh. That doesn't sound...”

He muted himself before he could say 'legal'. It had to be legal otherwise it wouldn't be a law, right? But it reminded him of something... He forced a smile on his face and his door-wings back up to their normal position.

“Actually, I kinda still have a ton of work to get through, so, but maybe we could catch up on old times after?”

The two-wheeler's eyes narrowed but she didn't say anything about the sparseness of his desk, instead standing up to take her leave.

“Don't worry about it, my schedule's a bit tight at the moment too. I'll catch you later.”

They walked to the entrance with another exchange of pleasantries Smokescreen was only barely paying attention to, then after Arcee'd left he ran back down the stairs into the reinforced bunker that held the majority of the Archives. There was something he needed to check.

-

Things were progressing fast now. The arrival of a warship that had agreed to help meant Starscream didn't need to spend so much time hunting down prisoners that owed him, but it also pushed their deadline up dramatically. The _Retribution_ wouldn't stay undetected for long, and they were still short of supplies.

At least his haste had infected Shockwave as well. The scientist had stopped working on the projects the Autobot Council had given him to prove his loyalty (why bother when soon he wouldn't answer to them) and was building as many I/D chip disrupters as he could. They'd hit on a companionable silence as they worked – even though Starscream was doing most of the grunt work and heavy lifting again he didn't mind if it was benefiting his own ideas.

Of course they expected that Shockwave's perceived drop in productivity would be noticed, and had planned for it. Shockwave had sent a list of required supplies that Starscream needed, with the implication that their lack was the cause of the delays. And if they were sent in Astrotrain as usual then that gave them the ability to get the disrupters distributed without running the risk of Starscream being spotted meeting with anyone.

Shockwave straightened up, optic cycling back to fully open as he zoomed his vision out from the magnification level needed to work on such small circuitry. He was certain that the latest batch would completely scramble the tracking beacon in the modern chips, having tested it on himself. The remote detonation and the explosive charge remained live, but blocking that would take too much time, and Starscream had a different plan for that he claimed would work. The likelihood of it being related to his increasingly frequent comm calls to Knock Out was high, but it wasn't any of Shockwave's business so he didn't ask.

He passed the last disrupter over to Starscream to be finished, then checked the delivery notification on his console. They were nearly here. Shockwave moved the crate of easily finished projects that would serve as a cover off to one side. Starscream looked up at him.

“This all of them?”

“Correct.”

“Good, good.”

Starscream put it with the rest in a little nondescript box. The proximity LED on the lab console began to blink – they were running out of time. The Seeker made his way to the entrance, and the hiding spot they'd prepared. It wasn't great, a small niche between some crates and lab equipment but it would survive a cursory glance if he crouched as small as he could. Especially with Shockwave standing in front and shielding it with his larger bulk.

Said scientist deactivated the alarm and swept any last traces of their activities away. Starscream doubted these 'aerialbots' could tell a microscope from a beaker but better safe than sorry – he didn't want to have to kill one if he was discovered. He lowered his wings, tucking them tight against his frame so they wouldn't poke out, and Shockwave moved back to the entrance as well as the sound of engines passed overhead.

Shockwave met them at the door before they could enter the room. Starscream listened as the jet's voice rose in annoyance before their footsteps faded back above ground. A Vehicon was left and entered to put down the supplies it was carrying. With Shockwave distracting the guards with a spurious complaint about quality of materials Starscream was free to move. It was going _perfectly_. Before the Vehicon could turn to leave, he stood and grabbed its shoulder.

It startled and whipped round. Claws poised to strike quickly dropped into a salute instead, fist over spark. Starscream held a finger up for silence, then tapped first at his head then on the panel covering the auxiliary data-ports on his hip. The Vehicon nodded and pried at its own panel. With its t-cog inhibited it couldn't retract it back but they managed to pry it up enough for Starscream to jack a cable in.

He sent the data packet over immediately that he'd complied earlier that hour. The Vehicon's optical band flickered as he accepted and downloaded the files. With his wings angled towards the exit so that the flight sensory panels on them had the best chance of picking up any shift in air currents that might mean someone entering, Starscream held up the box of disrupters then put them inside the crate to be returned to Iacon.

He kept his voice low but commanding, aware that any delay caused by demands to know where Megatron was or slights to Starscream's own capability could be fatal if they were caught. So it was rather refreshing when the Vehicon just listened intently instead of arguing back. Their connected cables sent a download completed ping and the seeker pulled out. As soon as the Vehicon removed his clawtip from under his panel it snapped back into place with a small upwelling of energon where the latches had been forced up.

“Take these, hide them. Make sure they're distributed – there's further instructions in the files I sent. Only tell who you can trust.”

He nodded obediently and picked up the crate with the disrupters and decoy projects in, carrying it out and passing Shockwave and Air Raid coming back down. And if a renewed hope made the Vehicon walk a little straighter than usual, it passed unnoticed.

_'Nice to see that some are still loyal. Then again if they weren't loyal they wouldn't **be** Vehicons.'_

Starscream was already ensconced back in his hiding place as they entered and he got his first proper look at a member of this fabled aerial gestalt. He was shorter but bulkier than a Seeker's uniquely lithe frame, and it was momentarily disorientating to see the Autobot insignia on a pair of wings. Other than that he didn't really look that much different to any other cyberjet. It was oddly disappointing somehow.

He looked young and unsure, hiding a nervous unease behind a mask of sullen attention. Even though his wings were naturally held lower on the back than a Seeker's, they were pinned further down than was probably normal, and quivered with a restless energy the flight from Iacon hadn't dispelled.

Starscream was more acquainted with the effects lack of flight had on a flight-frame than he wanted to be, both having experienced literally being grounded when his t-cog was stolen and more recently managing to contact some of the flyers currently living in Iacon. Hell, the one Seeker trine he'd managed to meet had been practically vibrating off the floor. He expected Decepticon prisoners to be treated like that, but not fellow Autobots with such a presumed high value. But if they were being raised by grounders it was extremely likely they didn't even know something was wrong.

He waited impatiently for the Autobot to finish arguing with Shockwave and leave. He had better things to do than sit in this hole, like getting those newsparks a _proper_ mentor. The Vehicons were stacking the supplies they'd brought in the background, unsupervised.

Finally, _finally_ , they finished unloading and left, the youngling jet eager to get back above ground no matter how he tried to hide it. Starscream gave them another few minutes to get some distance away before standing and stretching, talons flexing out.

“That went well.”

Shockwave didn't correct him, which for Shockwave was an expression of agreement. He was going through what he'd been sent – almost everything on their list was here. A pity the Autobots wouldn't be getting anything back out of it for their troubles.

It _was_ a shame though, about Ultra Magnus. He would miss their conversations – he hadn't realised how much he'd come to enjoy those debates. Without really thinking about it, he send over a quick message. It was unimportant, just a good luck for the election the next day, and he went to help Shockwave after and so put it out of his mind almost immediately. So he never noticed he'd used Shockwave's bugged equipment rather than his own secure datapad, and had no idea that a bunch of red-flags had just been set off in a security mainframe in Iacon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaah sorry this took so long, having a bit of a rubbish time irl & the Earth stuff didn't really come out like I wanted, but there'll be proper Griffin Rock shenanigans next chapter! Things kick off on Cybertron too so there's that?
> 
> Continuity-wise the rescuebots stuff is after bee showed up most recently but before sideswipe did so they haven't met in this. And I haven't managed to see any of the new RID episodes yet so no spoilers please :3 but I have seen a screenshot of Starscream's new design on tumblr & I like his Prime one better so that's still what he looks like


	7. A Ring of Light Surviving in Me

Everyone was sleeping, except Megatron. The Autobots had tried not to but were simply worn out. This new rescue team hadn't even bothered to set some kind of guard – even the firebot was in recharge. They really didn't have any kind of military training at all. It was ridiculous, and a little insulting. It would be simple for them to just creep out, hijack their vessel and leave this miserable planet far behind.

Megatron quietly drummed his claws against his leg-plating as he thought about it. It would be extremely easy, possibly even the 'right' thing to do. His presence here was unwanted and causing a lot of problems. Except his pride was rebelling against the idea. He'd given that high and mighty speech, promised himself he was different now, and then as soon as he'd heard something he didn't like, he'd lashed out and nearly struck Soundwave. He felt he was even worse than before and he wanted to prove he was better, better than himself, better than what Unicron had made him, better than Prime, better than _everyone_.

Soundwave twitched and shifted against his side. He was managing about twenty minutes of uninterrupted recharge now and waking up to physically touching another person was definitely helping. Which was why they were what the children had called 'snuggling' when they thought he couldn't hear.

The fingers clamped on the edges of his plating withdrew and Soundwave straightened up further. Megatron ought to order him back to sleep but he wanted to talk to him without being stared at.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

_/Reports filed/_

“ _Real_ reason, Soundwave.”

Soundwave moved further back, giving him space while he considered his explanation. It wasn't a coincidence that the soundclips picked were his other officers, Shockwave, Knock Out, and then Starscream.

_/Lord Megatron/health/unstable/_

He snorted. That was one way of putting it. But Optimus Prime had been right to hide this place from him: non-combatants or no, he would have wiped them out if only to rub it in his once-friend's face. But that didn't explain Soundwave's motives.

“You think that it was the Dark Energon that would have affected my decision, not that they wear Autobot badges?”

_/-do not waste your hate on those who know no better, they have been deceived as much as we have-/_

Megatron was silent. Even though he'd practically ordered him to, being criticized by Soundwave like he was trying to fill in for Starscream was still startling. Nor did he remember how he could have once sounded so naively enthusiastic. Now he just felt tired, drained and old.

Fingers slid between his claws and Soundwave sat beside him properly, rather than behind his shoulder. There was an odd tightness in his cold spark-chamber that, after everything Soundwave had lost and sacrificed, after everything Megatron had done and failed to do, he was still there, still loyal.

“Why do you remain?”

Soundwave’s response was simply to lean against him and tap his fingertips against the mark on his chest that once had been the Decepticon symbol before Unicron had defiled it. Where his spark had once flared in its chamber underneath, before it had been snuffed out. 

After a few minutes of struggling against it, Soundwave nodded off again, and Megatron tucked him tight to his side. What-ifs chased themselves around his mind as he stared ahead – if he had not been weak, where would they be now? If he had not turned into what he had originally risen against, would things have gone differently? 

It was some hours before dawn when a voice broke into his thoughts and brought him back to reality.

“I hope I'm not disturbing you.”

Megatron looked down, and down again – he kept forgetting how _small_ the damn things were – to see Chief Burns standing in front of them.

“You are not.”

“I thought perhaps we ought to have a chat, without everyone else listening in.”

Though he remained motionless where he was curled under Megatron's arm, the flow of air from Soundwave's vents prickling over his plating increased in frequency – he was once more awake and recording. But Megatron found it was simply too much effort to care right now. If Soundwave wanted to fuss over everything, if the human wanted to talk to him, _fine_. That didn't mean he had to _listen_.

“Very well.”

“I take it from Bumblebee's reactions, that you are Megatron?”

A sudden indecision twisted his insides. To deny it would most likely cause less problems, but then so would have leaving in the night, and his name was _his name_ – the first thing he had ever owned, the first thing he had claimed for himself, and he would not be ashamed of it.

“I take it my reputation precedes me?”

“Optimus did mention you, yes.”

“And did he see fit to mention his own betrayals whilst listing mine?”

Chief sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“He mentioned you'd had differences of opinions in the past. But he also said that he hoped that they would be reconcilable one day. That Griffin Rock would prove that Cybertronians and organic species could live side by side in peace, even to those such as you.”

Megatron snorted and shuttered his optics, leaning back against the wall with a grumble.

“Then he obviously didn't know me as well as he thought he did.”

Charlie didn't respond to that, but Megatron missed the amused look he shot him. Soundwave didn't, but he didn't react either – he wasn't that comfortable with his new role that he was going to call his lord out for sulking. Not yet anyway.

“Well, perhaps. But after all it wasn't just Autobots that were protecting us, it seems.”

The growl that rattled his plating wasn't enough to hide Soundwave's guilty twitch away from him. He shuffled back a bit from Megatron who was now scowling down again at this human's presumption.

“The actions of _my_ command staff are _not_ involved in any way of 'protecting' any kind of ridiculous Autobot endeavour, especially not one of _Optimus Prime's-_ ”

The sound of the lift to the human's quarters interrupted them and they were able to put on civilised expressions by the time the doors opened and Russell peeked out. He hesitated on seeing Chief Burns there with the Decepticons, but headed over anyway.

“Uh, morning, sir.”

“Please, Charlie is fine. You're up early.”

“Yeah, I just... I couldn't sleep. And um, kinda wanted to talk to Soundwave, if that's okay?”

He looked up at Megatron as he spoke, then over to Soundwave, fidgeting in place. Megatron turned away.

“I don't control who Soundwave chooses to speak with.”

For his part, Soundwave did not verbally respond but he did lean himself forward where he was sat, visor lowered down to be more or less at human level. Russell took a deep breath.

“I just, wanted to say thanks. For saving Fixit, and me, and,” he broke off again, fingernails digging into skin. Chief put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, but Russell ducked away. 

“And I'm not- I'm not sorry about h-happened to those men, they were gonna sh-shoot my _dad_ , but- If I hadn't- if we hadn't attacked you and broke your machine stopped you from talking to Megatron, then he wouldn't have come here and those people wouldn't have found the scrapyard and I'm sorry and it's my _fault!_ ”

Chief knelt down to take him in his arms as he shook, tears threatening to fall. Megatron cast about for something to say, that wouldn't be extremely awkward.

“I expect I would have come anyway.”

Russell's arms were wrapped tight around himself, he wasn't reacting to Chief Burns holding him at all, too focused on not crying. It was strange, this creature was no larger than a minicon and spoke about defeating Soundwave – he should ask the spy-master about that later.

For his part, Soundwave remained still, watching the humans with an unnerving regard. He was waiting for Russell to get a hold of himself, to look upwards again. When the boy did so, he pulled an image-capture onto his visor for him to look at. It was from above, at an awkward angle – neither of the people in it aware it had been taken. A small boy with glasses, no older than Russell, was half-turned to wave goodbye to someone in a car, schoolbag on his back. Or rather, he was waving at the car himself who, though the black stripes were in different positions on his chassis, was unmistakably Bumblebee.

“I don't... I don't know who that is?”

He rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve, still sniffing. Chief shrugged, still with a supportive arm around his shoulders – he didn't know either.

“Oh, I think I get it… Bee and the Autobots have been protecting humans for a long time, and they're not gonna stop just cause of some horrible people. Thanks Soundwave.”

Russell waved up at him and scooted off to the sofa, making room for himself by pushing Sideswipe's arm to the side. After another moment Chief Burns nodded to the Decepticon pair and went back upstairs, not wishing to continue their conversation with a child in the room.

Megatron huffed, and flicked his plating down again, but the irritation was already fading away rather than remaining as anger. Soundwave remained where he was, maintaining the small distance between them. That too, was irritating, but he didn't act on it. He didn't want to deal with the possibility of Soundwave rebuffing him if he tried to move him closer again, and the other Autobots would probably wake soon anyway – better that the pair didn't look weak when they did.

At some point, his corrupted HUD prevented him from knowing the exact time, the Autobots started stirring and he shuttered his optics and remained still. The Rescue Bots were the first up, creeping around their guests so not to disturb them. Only Heatwave paused to glance at the two Decepticons before following his teammates upstairs, assuming that they were both still asleep.

Then some time after that, the lift came down again and Denny crept in, still wearing his sleep-crumpled shirt from yesterday. He too ignored the Decepticons and beelined for the sleeping pile on the sofa, and let out an audible sigh when he found Russell dozing there too.

Jetstorm stirred as he felt a new presence there, still half in recharge as he reached for his weapon before realising who it was. He murmured a quiet good morning, nudged Slipstream up as well and the pair hopped down so Denny could sit.

Their movements caught Soundwave's attention in a way that no one else's did, and they hesitated on finding his visor directly facing them, then boosted each other back up to sit on the arm of the couch instead where they could pretend to ignore him. Denny scooched over a bit for them, one hand running gently through Russell's hair.

“What time did Rusty come back down?”

“Oh, I'm not certain. He wasn't here when we went into recharge.”

“Our apologies. We won't let it happen again.”

“Don't worry about it. Yesterday was a long day for everyone.”

He sighed tiredly, rubbed his free hand over his face to try and wake himself up more, and switched the topic to something that meant he didn't have to think about what a mess his life had suddenly turned into right now.

“So, you two have an admirer I see.”

Jetstorm peeked over the top of the cushion to check – yep still staring.

“Um. It's... expected.”

“Complicated.”

“How so?”

The minicon twins exchanged uncertain looks, aware that Soundwave would be able to hear every part of them discussing him.

“Well... There are different types of minicons. We can deploy from Master Drift – or anyone else that we choose to – but we don't have to. Most deployers choose to have a host though, it's... easier? To survive that way.”

“Fixit's a regular minicon – he doesn't deploy from a host, he functions at full efficiency independently.”

A corner of Denny's mouth quirked up. He couldn't help it, just the thought of Fixit being more efficient without help was almost funny.

“I take it these are all generalisations?”

Slipstream nodded, and peered round his brother to the 'Decepticon corner' again.

“The third kind are symbionts, and carriers – that's what Soundwave is. Carriers come out of the Well with a fixed number of minicons that rely on their frame, and they rely on and protect their minicons too. It's like a spark-bond in a way. Carriers with offline ports don't react rationally to minicons that aren't their symbionts.”

“Once, before we met Master Drift, we ran into a carrier that had lost some of their minicons – they attacked us because they saw us as a threat to their remaining ones.”

Denny glanced over as well – the blank visored stare was frankly creepy.

“Well, I don't know anything about wells or spark bonds or what-have-you, but if you two ever need help with Tall Dark and Spooky over there, you can come to me. I helped take him down before, you know. Plus it's the least I can do, after, well. Thanks for looking after Russell.”

They shifted in place, suddenly embarrassed by the praise, mumbling quietly that it was fine, it was their duty.

It was nearly noon when the other Autobots finally began stirring. Sideswipe startled awake, his engine jump-starting with a snort, before remembering where he was. He sat up straighter, limbs stretching to rid himself of the last of the EMP-induced stiffness then resettled on the floor next to the couch. 

He didn't fully relax until he'd glanced quickly round the room, counting and checking that the rest of the team were all there, but even after that his previously irrepressible light-hearted good nature didn't fully return. They'd been through a lot on Earth, but they'd never had to entirely abandon their base, and never come into actual conflict with humans before, and he hadn't bounced back from it.

Just like Jetstorm and Slipstream, he gravitated towards the one conscious responsible adult in the room. Denny floundered a bit, not really sure how to emotionally reassure giant alien robots that were apparently younger than they looked, but he tried his best.

Strongarm was up not soon after and she went through their energon cube store – currently more than enough for everyone thanks to the Rescue Bots – and made the executive decision as Bee was still zonked out that everyone could do with another cube to help with the draw from their self-repair systems.

Everyone meant _everyone_ , and she did approach the Decepticons warily, sliding a pair of cubes within arm's reach. Megatron took them with no more than a nod. Soundwave was once more in recharge for the moment, and he didn't correct her assumption that Megatron himself needed fuel. Instead he hoarded the bonus cube away, just in case, then carefully guided Soundwave's auxiliary intakes into the first cube as he had earlier.

Bumblebee didn't wake up until late afternoon, when the Burns family and 'Bots returned from patrol to check on them.

“There's a storm coming that will hit us overnight. Chase, Graham, Boulder and I are going to do some last minute checks on the shore defences. Perhaps, Blades and Cody could show your team around the town? It's getting pretty late for you all to leave today, don't you think?”

“But Chief, we're not-”

“Of course we will!”

Blades interrupted him before he could finish and linked their arms together, smiling up at him.

“Come on it'll be fine. What could possibly happen just from walking around?”

“On Griffin Rock? ...Fine, but we are leaving tomorrow.”

Any misgivings he had were banished by the strength of Blades' smile when he agreed. Cody grinned up at him as well, delighted.

“Maybe they'll change their minds about being Decepticons when they see how nice everyone here is?”

Bee's answering smile was rueful. _That_ he doubted, but it was hard to be negative around Cody.

As the others left to strengthen the storm defences, the rest of Team Bee crowded round in excitement. Sure they'd all driven through Crown City before but this would be walking around an actual human settlement with actual humans there – not just an abandoned town. Even Drift at least _felt_ intrigued even though he didn't look it. No one asked the Decepticons if they wanted to go, but they didn't have a choice – they weren't being left at the firehouse by themselves.

But when they were about to leave, another problem presented itself. When faced with going out and meeting more strangers, Russell hesitated. He just said that he was fine, just tired, but the fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt betrayed his anxiety. Cody went over without missing a beat.

“If you want, I can show you the command room? We can follow them along on the cameras.”

“Um, sure. Sounds good.”

Sideswipe stepped back over as well. Though he shrugged with as much nonchalance as possible, his expression was reassuring when he looked at Russell. 

“Hey, I'll stay as well. I mean, if I wanted to look at a _library_ I'd've stayed on Cybertron, right?”

With that, Fixit elected to stay behind as well, also interested in the command centre, and the three of them smoothed it over so that Russell didn't feel worse that they were only staying because of him.

While that was being sorted, Bumblebee moved to take the space that Sideswipe had vacated. This put him casually within arm's reach of Soundwave. It was something he'd decided on, with Megatron now displaying a certain level of care for him – if something were to happen, Bee could force cooperation by threatening the still-weak spy rather than Megatron's invulnerable frame. It wasn't an Autobot tactic, and he knew Optimus wouldn't approve, would have been more willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but Bee just couldn't. He'd need every advantage he could think of, especially now that they were in an inhabited area. Soundwave himself didn't look like he'd noticed – his head and visor were upturned, dark plating angled a little to soak up the last of the sun's warmth.

It was hard to imagine that there would be a storm later, but even now the wind was starting to pick up as they set off.

Blades led the way happily, he and Dani pointing out various landmarks to their visitors with Cody chiming in over the radio. It wasn't long before the large group of new Cybertronians caught peoples notice and the citizens of Griffin Rock came over to see what was happening.

That the humans were so fearless, more interested in _who_ rather than _what_ they were, it was refreshing and Strongarm was quickly pulled into conversations with them. Grimlock had attracted most of the children around, it being a weekend, and they were climbing all over his alt-mode in delight, though in his own excitement he was having trouble staying still so they didn't fall off.

Everything was going so perfectly, it almost wasn't surprising when Cody broke off mid-sentence, then switched to the emergency dispatch line.

“Guys, there's been a collision downtown near the bank, and it looks like one of the gas mains is damaged!”

Heatwave hesitated, conflicted between his duty and wanting to keep the Decepticons in eyesight.

“Don't worry, we'll keep an eye on them. Go ahead.”

“...So long as they don't touch any humans.”

He transformed, popped a door open for Kade, then drove round the group towards the emergency, sirens flicking on. Kade patted his dash, watching them get smaller in the rearview mirror, Blades and Dani whirring overhead.

“Well you seem to have changed your mind about those new guys.”

“ _Urgh_ , I guess. They're probably not that dangerous, otherwise Bee wouldn't have agreed so easily to bring them here, whoever they are.”

“Oh, um, whossname-the red one... Sideswipe!-said one was called Megatron.”

“He _**WHAT?!**_ ”

Heatwave slammed his brakes in shock, stopping so suddenly that even with the seatbelt Kade was still jerked forwards.

“Heatwave the _fire!_ What are you doing?!”

For two long seconds there was no response but the spluttering of his engine, then he jolted back into motion and sped back up towards the blaze with a snarl.

“When we get back, Bumblebee and I are going to have **words**.”

-

Ultra Magnus entered his private office with a face like thunder, sick to the back-teeth of politicians, politics, and idiots in general. 

Today's session had been filled with irritations that he just wasn't in the mood for, especially Decimus and the damn quips he kept making when he thought he was being witty. At least Perceptor had pulled him up on relevance. 

It wasn't helped afterwards when Ratbat pulled him aside as he was leaving, to wish him good luck for tomorrow, but it wasn't worsened either – Ratbat might be an ex-Decepticon but at least he was capable of having a civil conversation, unlike many of the actual Autobots that were his colleagues. 

It wasn't that he disliked being a Council member, it was just... frustrating more often than not. It wasn't what he was used to. He was used to commanding and being respected by those he commanded, not what often felt like a popularity contest crossed with insults more suited to a sparkling's play area. 

The blinking light of new unread messages on his console made him sigh heavily as he crossed the room and sat down.

Junk mail that he deleted, hate mail that he read for valid criticisms, petitions and messages informing him about various causes (some he already knew of, some he didn't, all given the same level of consideration), official announcements, and messages from aides and public servants – all checked, sorted, and responded to if appropriate.

It took a few hours to go through them all, before he could switch over to his personal account. As expected there was only the one message there – from his 'mysterious correspondent'. To be fair, he hadn't technically confirmed their identity... but it was pretty obviously Starscream.

He would still like to know how the Seeker had got his frequency, but it had become a secondary concern, and he was honest enough with himself that he admitted he'd started looking forward to getting all the day's work finished so he could continue their debate. 

It made sense of course, that Starscream was extremely intelligent. He hadn't been Second in Command of the entire Decepticon faction for nothing, just as Ultra Magnus himself had earned his own rank. It was just that during the Earth campaign Starscream had been less than... competent perhaps wasn't the right word. Hadn't been the kind of person he would have thought he could have a reasoned, well thought out multi-day conversation about philosophical and moral differences between their two factions, and the similarities as well.

Today's message was downright civil – just well wishes for the morning. 

He was going to reply when he noticed something different this time. Every single piece of communication, from the first request for data-files onwards, had been sent through multiple proxies and redirects, so much so that he couldn't trace them back. It was a situation he was fine with, it gave him plausible deniability, and a certain level of professional distance. But not this one. 

There was no name or location data, but the frequency number was listed. Instead of responding he sent a communication request, fingers tapping as he waited for it to connect. The ache in his processor was coming back again, he wanted to know what possible reason Starscream could have for being so _massively inappropriate_ and then he just wanted to recharge.

-

In retrospect, Starscream ought to have listened to the feeling that things were going too perfectly. But he didn't – too busy poring over Strika's reports, sketching out different defence configurations on a map he'd scratched into the surface of a worktop. Too busy moving supplies from Shockwave's lab to his own hiding place, as Shockwave still had a tracker and couldn't leave to assist him with it. Looking back on it later, he could only be grateful that the call came while he was present.

The console lit up with an incoming-call notification, which Shockwave paused to answer after Starscream had tucked himself away out of the visual pick-up range of the feed but where he could still watch. It was high-priority, from Iacon, but that wasn't out of the ordinary – the only people who called Shockwave were his handlers requesting updates and status reports. 

If Shockwave felt any surprise at all at seeing Ultra Magnus' face appear instead, he didn't show it, simply inclining his head in greeting as if this was a normal occurrence. Starscream's nerves were already strung tight, and he accidentally knocked over a stack of crates with a wing as he flinched back.

“Councillor.”

“Shockwave. Where is Starscream?”

“I am not currently aware of the location of Starscream. As I have informed the Council previously, he is most likely deactivated.”

“...Then am I to understand that _you_ have been sending these messages?”

The sensory fins on top of Shockwave's helm lowered as he hesitated, unsure of how best to proceed and equally unsure what he meant by messages. Starscream vented deeply, bracing himself for it, then stood and walked over to the console, waving Shockwave back with an airy confidence he didn't feel.

“I'll take it from here. Hello Ultra Magnus.”

Magnus' face pulled into an even deeper frown. 

“Explain yourself.”

“ _I_ haven't done anything that needs explaining. Perhaps you have the wrong number.” That made him think. “Actually, how _did_ you get this frequency?”

“You sent a message from it. I admit I have been indulging your behaviour more than I should, however whether people like it or not the war is over and exchange of information is not a crime. But that does not excuse your _blatant disregard_ for-”

“You have no proof that was me, and- wait I sent a message from here? But this is...”

He stared down at the keyboard in unseeing horror. What message? He couldn't remember – the one from a few hours ago? Didn't he use his datapad for that? Shockwave had said every activity was logged and recorded on his equipment, that was why they'd been using Skyfire's old tools. If he'd contacted someone from the console then there'd be security records, and who would have the highest security-alert status then a member of the Cybertronian Council?

“I...”

His wings lowered flat to his back as he cringed over, talons sinking into the keys. Any moment now the blows would come – _failed **again** Starscream_. But they didn't. _Now_ Starscream fully realised that there really was no one there to scream at and berate him for failures and mistakes, no one to remove him from command and take over. If he wanted to fix this, there was nothing to stop him and no one to find fault with his methods.

He didn't even have to waste time with platitudes and begging for forgiveness, which was handy because there was no time to waste now. Never mind his meticulously updated timetables, they were compromised and they had to go. He pulled himself together, standing straight once more.

“Right. Shockwave, try to bounce a signal to the _Retribution_ and tell them to get a move on. Ultra Magnus, I-”

_'-enjoyed our conversation more than I thought I would'_

_'-never intended to bring you into this'_

_'-didn't want to ruin things for you'_

“-well, I'm sending you a set of coordinates. If you find yourself in any trouble, go there in the next, hum, half an hour.”

“You expect there to be trouble for just me, or the entire city?”

“I'm not invading if that's what you're implying. I know you're not that popular with certain elements, _Councillor_ , and I know what happens to those who speak out of line. If they were waiting for an excuse, they've got one.”

“I won't pretend to not know who you're talking about, but I'm hardly the most vocal critic.”

“Neither Metalhawk nor Dai Atlas are talking to a criminal fugitive right now, _and_ they have the Neutral vote. In any case I'm sure this is being recorded, you'd better go.”

He cut the line before Ultra Magnus could respond, staring at the blank screen still. In the silence he was aware of Shockwave looming behind him. How easy would it be, he wondered, for Shockwave to turn him in and claim to the Council that Starscream had forced him to help. The confined space gave Shockwave's larger, stronger frame all the advantages and suddenly Starscream couldn't stand to be in the underground room any more.

“Have you got a signal through?”

“I have added an update to the beacon – when they pick up the edit they will move out of sensor-shadow to contact you.”

“Good. Stay here, get ready to move on my return.”

He strode out, avoiding that flat single-eyed stare, and headed up the ramp. He was transforming almost before he'd cleared the door, and rocketed off.

_-Hello Doctor, there's been a bit of a situation...-_

-
    
    
    [⚠  Access Denied ]

“Argh, what the frag!”
    
    
    [⚠  Access Denied ]
    
    [⚠  Access Denied ]
    
    [⚠  Access Denied ]

Smokescreen thumped the archive terminal in frustration.

“ _Why_ is this happening! _Scrap!_ ”

He'd been down there so long it was after nightfall, but that was far from his mind. Somehow, even though he held the highest level of clearance possible in the Iacon Hall of Records, because he _ran_ it, he'd been locked out of multiple pre-war files. It wasn't all of them, which meant he had no idea when it had happened, and of course the ones he wanted to look at were locked.

It shouldn't be possible, but the big blinking error text on the screen just would not go away no matter what he tried to troubleshoot it with. There didn't even look like there was a pattern or correlation between files – Senator Proteus' speech to the Senate about the increasing Decepticon aggression was locked, but the one right before that from Senator Highwinds was accessible, and Highwinds had actually spoken of negotiations _in favour_ of the 'Cons. Financial records for places like Helex or Tesarus were fine, but Polyhex's were locked.

A sense of foreboding was creeping up on him. There had to be a pattern, some kind of connection there, if only he could figure it out!

_-“Hey Ultra Magnus, sir, do you know why- Sir? Are you alright, I can hear laserfire.”-_

_-Smokescr░░░░░░░ou to inv░░░gate these coordin░░░░░-_

_-“What's happening?! Your signal's being scrambled, are you injured?”-_

Even as he spoke he was sprinting up the stairs two at a time, the archive files forgotten behind him.

_-Thi░░░░░░░░ssination atte░░░░-_

Through the static he thought he could also hear someone screaming in the background. It made him hesitate, instead of running for the main entrance he turned back and up the next flight of stairs to the secured artefact room. If he'd been locked out of these too he might be wasting time Ultra Magnus didn't have, but if he hadn't...

The door lock flicked green and opened, thank Primus, and he made a beeline for the display case containing the phase shifter. A map request came up on his HUD from Ultra Magnus but the coordinates were downtown Iacon, nowhere near where Magnus' office or home was.

_-Sir I'm on my way, should I contact the Elite Guard?-_

_-Negat░░░░░nd those coordinates, th░░░░n order.-_

Smokescreen clipped the phase shifter to his wrist and used it to drive straight through the wall and outside, falling from the first floor to the pavement below.

There wasn't much traffic because of the rain, though luckily the acidic concentration wasn't high enough yet to cause more than mild discomfort. He still tried to avoid puddles as he roared off, didn't want that on his tyres.

He picked the fastest route to the coordinates in his GPS, then tried to contact Ultra Magnus again. After getting repeated no responses, he commed Arcee instead.

_-Arcee can you hear me?!-_

_-Smokescreen, what- do you have any idea what time it is?-_

_-Something's wrong, can you get in touch with Ultra Magnus?-_

The irritation in her voice disappeared immediately as she snapped from half out of recharge to fully aware.

_-Hang on.-_

There was a pause as Smokescreen swept past a lone commuter on the main road, with a far too slow alt-mode, then she was back.

_-No. What happened?-_

_-I don't know! I commed him earlier to ask him something and it sounded like he was in a fight. He sent me some coordinates and told me to go there instead of helping, then he cut out.-_

_-He's usually still at his office at this time, I'm heading there. I'll contact the others.-_

_-Right. When I get to wherever, I'll let you kn-oh **SCRAP!** -_

Taking a corner at speed he almost slammed straight into a convoy of people going the other way, none of which had their headlights on. Smokescreen span himself round to avoid them, nearly sent himself rolling right over in the poor road conditions, and realised that the one in front was the distinctive Earth form of his disappearing-act hab-mate.

_-Gonna need to call you back.-_

After cutting the commlink he transformed and stormed over, only then noticing the others in the group. Only about half were in alt-mode with the other half riding on and clinging to them, and they were all Decepticons. Most were Vehicons and Eradicons, but there was a pair of construction vehicles he remembered from the Ibex stadium, plus a couple of others that weren't genericon frame-types. It was hard to tell colours in the dark and the strengthening rain, but the 'Con emblem was easy to make out and the only ones with Autobot emblems were some of the Vehicons.

Knock Out transformed back and stepped forward to meet him halfway there, stopping him from advancing further.

“Knock Out, what are you doing?”

“Get out of the way, Smokescreen.”

“Why- ...you've switched sides again, haven't you?! I can't _believe_ you!”

“It's not about _sides_ , it's about survival.”

“Is that what _we_ were? Just _'survival'?!_ ”

Knock Out looked away, the rest of the group caught up and crowding round. The crane flicked on his lights, centring Smokescreen in the glare of the beam.

“May I remind you we are on a schedule. Just offline him and lets go.”

Smokescreen hesitated, waited for Knock Out to argue back or defend him in some way. But he didn't, like he didn't know what to say. Before anyone else got any ideas, Smokescreen sprinted to the side, phased through the group of mechs and drove off quickly. 

He told himself it was just because he had to get away fast, he had to help Ultra Magnus. It wasn't because he didn't want to wait to hear his friend tell the others to open fire or attack him himself. Definitely.

-

Now without their local guides, Team Bee were feeling more self-conscious about being out in the town, and more worried about the attentions their presence was causing. 

Cody was still busy on the emergency-dispatch line, but Russell was relaying messages to them as they wended their way back to the firehouse.

“Oh if you take a right here, can you go past -who was it?- Mrs Neederlander's house? Cody said she needs help... with her cat?”

Bumblebee sighed, gesturing the rest in the right direction. 

“Yeah. Can do. How's everyone else back there?”

At least, Russell sounded happier right now which was something.

“Well, there's an episode marathon of 'Bin Battles' on right now so my dad and Sides are watching that. Fixit's uploading some of his programs onto the Autobot computers here. Oh and Cody says the others are nearly finished too and should be back soon.”

They reached the house with the cat in the tree as he was talking. Mister Pettypaws looked down at them all and hissed suspiciously.

“Seriously. _This_ is an emergency?”

Strongarm huffed, arms folded. Though luckily, she'd kept her voice down enough that the old human female waiting for them didn't hear. The same couldn't be said for Grimlock who audibly yelped at the sight of the cat and tried to hide behind her door-wings.

Bee tried reaching up, to no avail – he was just a bit too short, especially as of course Mister Pettypaws scrambled up to a higher branch. Grimlock could probably still reach, but that probably wasn't going to happen for multiple reasons, and he was going to suggest boosting Strongarm onto his shoulders when a long arm passed over his head. The movement triggered instincts honed by a lifetime of warfare, and his weapon was in his hand before he realised.

“Soundwave! Put that cat down.”

The tip of the blade wavered a little as Bumblebee was distracted by the fact that yes that was a sentence he did just say.

Soundwave turned to look at him, visor as impassive as always. Given that his hands were less hands and more fingers grafted straight onto an arm, and so not able to comfortably hold living things, he had raised the entire arm and Mister Pettypaws had stepped curiously onto the horizontal plane of the plating and off of the tree he'd been stuck up. Again.

“Soundwave-!”

Strongarm started forward, gun raised. She was completely ignored, and they were treated to the sight of one of the most dangerous Decepticons ever carefully manoeuvring his arm round without dislodging the cat on it, so that he could touch a finger to the fur as he examined it intently.

Megatron remained at the back of the group, it was no business of his. Then the creature hunched its back legs while its front legs stretched out longer than he thought possible – a motion Megatron realised he recognised from someone else long ago.

“It's not his intent to harm that creature.”

“You'll forgive me if again I don't take your word for it.”

But Soundwave was already removing his fingers, lowering the plane of his arm so that Mister Pettypaws could jump down into his owner's arms. Mrs Neederlander sniffed, going inside with him without another word, leaving the others rather speechless.

After a moment they continued on their way back, somewhat miffed from the lack of appreciation. For his part, Soundwave didn't appear to care one way or the other. But, his actions had softened Strongarm towards him, who only had the first time he'd broken out of the Shadowzone (potentially justified as self-defense), and the history vids she'd watched on Cybertron (focused on Decepticon depravity in general rather than particular people) as context for him being 'dangerous'. 

She dropped to the back of the group and walked alongside the pair, watching him for a while then switching her gaze to Megatron. He too had acted far better than other Decepticons that she had experience with, such as Steeljaw, and though of course she'd heard all the stories, the reality wasn't living up to them right now.

“So...” She hesitated on how to address him before settling on, “sir, I was wondering if I could ask you some questions?”

Megatron ignored her but unfortunately for him she took his silence as not being an outright ‘no’.

“I noticed there were some similarities between the Decepticon Charter and Autobot Code, did you know that? Or did you base it off of the Autobot Code?”

Megatron’s lip twitched humourlessly. He’d never read the Autobot Code of Conduct, but he could guess it too had had its roots in that mutual first-draft for a fair government he and Orion had made so long ago. The thought of his old friend brought the memories of his betrayal straight after, but the emotional ebb he was in at that moment let those thoughts pass through without sticking in his mind - Orion Pax had been Megatronus’ friend, and he could no longer fool himself into believing he was what his younger self had wished to be.

He still wasn’t going to lower himself to small talk with an Autobot and he again said nothing, gaze boring into Bumblebee’s back where he walked ahead of them next to Soundwave. But Strongarm kept talking. She pulled up her holographic display, the two files of text side by side, and started highlighting sections to show him as they walked. He couldn’t help looking, in spite of himself.

The language was ridiculously ornate, so covered in legalese as to be almost undecipherable, but the gist of it was the same as the short blunt sentence highlighted from his own charter.

_'Every Cybertronian has a right to a name'_

Bumblebee turned around in curiosity.

“You have a copy of the Decepticon manifesto? You know that's a cautionable offence, right?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“Wait you mean Strongarm broke a law?”

Grimlock bent down to squint at the texts too over her shoulder. She shoved at him, door-wings flickering in embarrassment.

“I was going to delete it! After I graduated anyway. I just thought, if I studied it, it might give an insight into better stopping them, you know? But I've been kinda distracted with Earth stuff.”

By this point Bee had stopped walking completely and was also looking at it in interest.

“Can you send me a copy?”

“Are you... going to report it?”

Bee chuckled, shaking his head.

“No, that wasn't something I agreed with anyway. Plus we have slightly bigger problems right now.”

They were nearly back, when Russell came over the comm again, interrupting them.

“Guys, Fixit's got the scanner working and it's picking up a pair of 'Con signals, but they're not in the database.”

“We're heading back anyway. Where are they?”

“Off the coast of Crown City.”

“I was afraid of that. Looks like Megatron wasn't the only one to pick up that transmission...”

-

Cutting corners where he could with the phase shifter, he made a beeline for those damn coordinates. Whatever was there better be worth it rather than helping Magnus. He tried him again on the comm again with no response, with the same for Arcee too.

Smokescreen slowed down as he got close, transformed back into root-mode so that he could use his weapons. He was in front of one of the loading hangars for shipments to the Hydrax spaceport. It looked like no one was using it, the hangar doors were shut and locked, but he still carefully poked his head through the door to check before shifting the rest of his body through.

The lights were all off and he didn't hear anything so he went in. Even with his headlights on, the far side of the bay wasn't illuminated enough to be visible. But the lights did glance off a shuttle and he cautiously moved closer. Any hope that it might just be a non-sparked transport ship was dashed when he saw the Decepticon badge on the wings.

But the other mech didn't react to his presence at all. He switched his headlights back off first to be safe then crept around their still form.

_'Are they recharging here? Surely this isn't a home. Why did Magnus want me to come here, what is going on?'_

Didn't look like there was anything odd here apart from the 'Con in alt-mode. There was a sudden rattling that filled the room as the hangar door started to rise, and too late Smokescreen realised he was too far from the door to get out before whoever was out there came in.

He hid from view behind the landing gear of the shuttle – at a pinch he could duck through the wall if he was spotted – and waited to see what would happen next.

Because he'd met them earlier, it wasn't surprising when Knock Out and company where the ones who entered. What made him jump was the shuttle he thought was in recharge suddenly speaking.

“Took long enough. Got a lurker.”

A group of Eradicons advanced towards him, spreading out as they did so, Smokescreen shrugged and stood up, not that worried about them keeping him prisoner. He wanted answers. As he stood he flicked on his headlights, blinding them temporarily.

“Smokescreen?! How did you get here first? And how did you know where to come?”

Knock Out moved forward cautiously, one hand formed into his buzzsaw. Those Vehicons that could still transform out their weapons did so, aiming them warily at the Autobot.

“I want to know what's going on! Did you attack Ultra Magnus?”

The group of genericons looked at each other, puzzled. But in the light of his headlamps, Smokescreen thought Knock Out looked a little worried, and guilty.

“What would Ultra Magnus have to with anything? Who told you about this?”

“What's _'this'_?! What did you do?”

The rest of the group had surrounded them now, once more. Those few stuck in their alt-modes hemmed in the perimeter, engines snarling. Smokescreen moved backwards, hand hovering over the phase shifter just in case. But Knock Out waved them all back, backing up the gesture with his saw.

“Enough, he's with me. Stop wasting time, we still have a deadline.”

Surprisingly most of them did back off, forming into groups by the shuttle. Smokescreen watched them cautiously, door-wings relaxing slowly.

“I need to borrow that.”

He looked from Knock Out's outstretched hand to the phase shifter.

“What for?”

“To buff my backside with-what do you **think**. I'll give it back after.”

Smokescreen still hesitated – sure it was alright being told no one would shoot him but it was a lot better knowing he could phase out if they did. And could he even trust his word? Knock Out _was_ a Decepticon after all- except that if he'd wanted to kill him he'd had plenty of opportunities in the past five years. Except that Smokescreen had spent those five years angry that no one would give Knock Out a chance because 'sure he _says_ he's changed but _you know Decepticons_ '. Except that it was all well and good _saying_ that being an Autobot made you a better person, but you had to act like one too.

He unclipped it from his wrist and passed it over. Knock Out put it on, then slid a finger into his own arm, frowning as he moved it around without being able to see what he was doing. He hissed in pain when he pinched a wire inside, but he was smiling.

“This might actually work.”

Smokescreen followed him over to where Hook had parked, door-wings angled out curiously.

“What will work, what are you doing?”

Hook's engine growled as they got close.

“Why is he still alive? _You're_ the one wasting time.”

“Well we can't exactly leave until everyone else gets here, and it'll be faster with two of us. Where's your brain module?”

Knock Out hesitated after Hook told him, having second thoughts about how well this would actually work.

“Actually, maybe _you_ should...”

He looked at Smokescreen's fingers, frowning.

“Hm. No, no,” then in a louder voice, “Everyone move back.”

Smokescreen was the only one who didn't, and he grabbed Knock Out by the arm.

“ _What_ is going on, does this have something to do with Ultra Magnus?”

Knock Out just phased his arm out of his grip.

“Ultra Magnus is not involved. Now stop distracting me!”

With that he stuck his arm up to the shoulder into Hook, optics unfocusing as he shunted all his processing power into his tactile sensory net. Hook held himself higher on his wheels, engine snorting, but managed to stop himself from moving away from the nauseating feeling of someone rooting around inside him. A pair of Vehicons pulled Smokescreen back to what they knew was a safe distance, and he hissed at one of them.

“Hey what is he doing?”

One of them held a claw up to where their mouth would be if they had one, and he had time to notice their Autobot badges before Knock Out started swearing and he turned back to watch.

There was a choking noise from Hook when Knock Out reached the brain, his hand interfering with synapses even though it was phased out as he felt around. But then Knock Out was withdrawing his arm slowly, his fist clenched around something.

Hook reversed away and transformed into a full-body shudder, his plating rattling and twitching. Knock Out kept his hand held away from his body as he looked down at the full I/D chip, wiring, and explosive device in his grip.

“Hah, it _did_ work! Fortune favours the fabulous!”

His elation didn't last long through as he quickly realised he was now holding a bomb and only it and his arm still being out of phase was preventing it from auto-detonating. Everyone else had moved even further back.

“ _Slag slag slag-_ ”

He ran over to the wall and pushed his arm through so that the chip was left within the wall. As soon as he let go the anti-tamper sensor went off and the charge detonated with enough force to punch a hole in the wall and an audible _pok_ sound. Had it gone off while inside someone's frame, it was powerful enough to obliterate their head.

“What the _fuck_ was that?!”

Smokescreen was so shocked he didn't realise at first he'd accidentally slipped into English. Something like relief flitted across Knock Out's face.

“You didn't know about those.”

“You thought I knew about this? _Primus_ Knock Out there's a _bomb in his head!_ What kind of person do you think I am?!”

“No, I just- it's complicated. Look, you should probably go.”

Smokescreen grabbed hold of him, grip tightening until his finger-joints protested.

“Knock Out. _What. Is. Going. On._ ”

More engines rumbled outside the hangar, more headlights were flashing in the doorway, but he didn't let him go. He _needed_ an explanation. Knock Out wouldn't look him in the eye.

“It's not like we're starting a war or anything! We're just... leaving.”

“You're going? I know things haven't been that great recently but I thought it was getting better...”

A large flatbed truck pulled in, with three Seekers on top, two other Constructicons following with more Vehicons clinging onto the sides of their alt-modes, and a couple other civilian-frame grounders. They mingled with the others already here, some looking over warily. Smokescreen let go of Knock Out, not wanting anyone to consider him a threat now he was so outnumbered. 

Hook was berating them all into lines as Knock Out moved to join him. Smokescreen trailed after, feeling a little lost. He watched the pair as they worked, cutting into each person's helm and snipping the right wire that prevented remote detonation without tripping the auto-detonation fail-safes. From the speed, it was obvious this was something both of the medics had done before, although Knock Out was actually a little faster thanks to his buzzsaw and needle-like fingers. 

“Do you have one too?”

Knock Out looked up at him, and shook his head. Smokescreen ex-vented quietly, relieved, but he still looked a little lost at the suddenness that he'd found out about all this, and the betrayal he felt and felt guilty for feeling. Knock Out noticed that too, and tried to distract him without stopping. He was on a deadline after all.

“So, what's this about Ultra Magnus?”

“Ultra Magnus! _Oh scrap I forgot!_ I need to go!”

He span round and bolted for the doorway, transforming mid step, and nearly crashed himself straight into a limping form. Quick thinking had him phasing straight through the other's frame, and he span himself round so fast his tyres squealed and skidded back into root-mode. 

Plating rent and scorched, one arm wrapped round his side to press against a great gash on his side, Ultra Magnus braced himself against the doorframe to keep standing without slumping over, and turned to face him.

“Smokescreen. Report.”

-

Starscream was high over Iacon before he'd decided what he was actually going to do. The storm might be masking his signal from defence installations on the ground, but it also was difficult to fly in and was playing merry hell with his finish. At least his current alt-mode, designed for Earth's more turbulent atmosphere and stronger gravity, was giving him an advantage – it was like flying with a dragweight removed. Humans, good for one thing at least. The acidic concentration was creeping up the longer he stayed out in it though, he needed to hurry up.

Wheeling round in an arc over the city, he began to descend, weaving through rebuilt towers and highrises. Presumably, Ultra Magnus's office was in the centre of the city, in the most built-up areas. Somewhere.

He told himself he was just spending time while waiting for contact from the _Retribution_ , he didn't _actually_ care, and anyway just because the Senate had used assassination or empurata to remove a political embarrassment, that didn't mean this Council would. The old Senators were in a minority. Probably.

The full brunt of the storm reached Iacon, a burst of wind nearly flinging him into a building's shuttered windows. No one would be out in this apart from his contacts and their groups, he ought to go-

The distinctive sound of laserfire caught his attention and he surged forwards. Flying only metres from the ground he rounded a corner and right into the Prime's pet two-wheeler. She was as surprised as he was, and most of her shots went wild. Starscream rolled onto his side, wingtip scraping sparks from the road-surfacing, and tried to dislodge her but Arcee clung on and jammed an arm-blade between a wing and the rest of his chassis.

With a yowl of pain, he flipped right over and slammed himself into the ground, grinding her into it underneath him. At the same time, he fired a missile into the building they were sliding towards and sent part of it crashing down. He shot off, leaving Arcee to dig herself out and assist the residents of the tower.

Starscream righted himself with a curse, the acid rain was getting into his wounds. Slanting between another pair of skyscrapers, he found what he didn't want to admit he was looking for.

Though his assailants had managed to force Ultra Magnus to his knees, he was still fighting back against the three of them – a fourth was already down and motionless on the ground. None of them heard the Seeker's approach over the storm and the fight, and he took everyone by surprise when he opened fire.

Two of them were knocked away and Magnus fired again on them with his remaining arm cannon. The last Starscream transformed and dropped onto, talons seeking out the chest seams where the plating was thinnest and sinking in towards the spark. That one he left to bleed out, and fired a null-ray at the only one left moving as he tried to crawl away. Ultra Magnus was slumped over, heavily wounded, but he still tracked Starscream with his weapon, optics bright. His other hand, no longer able to transform due to the old injury, was futilely trying to stem the flood of energon from his side, the claws of the hook covered in bright blue.

“Here to finish the job?”

Starscream didn’t look at him, focused on the gun following his movements when he stepped closer.

“I didn’t have anything to do with this! In fact I just saved you, so a thank you would be appreciated!”

Ultra Magnus lowered his weapon, though he still kept it online.

“I know. When they jumped me they called me a traitor working for the Decepticons. Working for you.”

Starscream moved a little closer, ready at any moment to flee from an attack. When Ultra Magnus didn’t react negatively he spared a glance at the fallen assailants. None of them had faction badges, a team insignia or any other mark of rank or identification.

Magnus noticed the glance and nodded down at one of them.

“That’s Afterburn. We served together at Kalis. He was a member of the Elite Guard.”

“I told you, it’s nothing to do with me.”

“But you knew something would happen.”

Starscream huffed, wings fluttering with indecision. The rain was sheeting down, it was starting to burn his outer layers – he couldn’t imagine how it was affecting Ultra Magnus’ open wounds.

“I _suspected_. I didn't think it would be this fast, although it's not the first time - remember Senator Highwinds?”

Ultra Magnus slowly heaved himself to his feet, staggering.

“Back then we assumed… that had been you...”

Starscream steadied him with his own remaining hand, his rudimentary replacement arm held tight against his frame where it was not in the way.

“At that time, that wasn’t something I’d do. And of course there’s what happened to Shockwave before that. Really, you should have expected it yourself - people who step out of line get smashed back in. Or did you think things had magically changed?”

“The old senators do not hold a majority in the Council, this isn’t-” Ultra Magnus looked down at where Starscream was still touching him and he quickly removed his hand. “If things are still as similar as you say, your actions will reignite the war.”

“Or just give them a convenient excuse to replace you with someone who shares their views. At least, that’s what _I_ would have done.”

Starscream flicked his plating, shaking off the rain that was pooling there. He’d delayed too long, he had to get out of the interference caused by the storm - Strika may be trying to call him even now.

“If you _were_ to go to the coordinates I gave you… There’s medics there that might help.”

Ultra Magnus’ response was lost in the noise of his transformation, and he rocketed off from the standing start he was so fond of.

Magnus watched him go, both hands pressed against his side. Attempting to contact emergency services would be unwise - once whoever had planned this found out they’d failed, they wouldn’t give him a chance to tell anyone the truth. He pulled up the location on his HUD and began painfully making his way there - above all else he _had_ to prevent any breakout of hostilities. He was no Prime -he _knew_ that- but they’d promised Optimus to keep the peace, and that was what he was going to do, even if it killed him. 

The call Starscream was waiting for came as he was wheeling back towards Vos, leaving Ultra Magnus to find his way by himself.

_-Ah, Strika, finally.-_

_-We received the updated message – is our position compromised?-_

_-No, the problem's down here. You need to step up your preparations.-_

_-What problem? I'm not throwing my ship into a battle already lost.-_

_-Strika, I am-_ Here he had to fling himself upwards as whoever was controlling Iacon's anti-air cannons finally woke up and noticed he was there. It coincided with an incoming call from Knock Out which he cancelled in exasperation. _- **extremely busy** at the moment. Either you help like you promised or **get out of my face**.-_

There was a prolonged pause, he used it to loop over the city to get a visual on the hangar they'd picked – he didn't dive closer in case of drawing attention but it didn't look like the Elite Guard were there at least. He closed another call from Knock Out just in time to pay attention to her reply.

_-We are en-route. Do you have a speech prepared?-_

A speech. Right. He had plenty, most composed while scavenging energon either here or back on Earth. But now none of them seemed to fit any more. Starscream flew down lower, dropping out of sight in the rubble of Tarn while he dictated one to her. For something he'd just pulled out of the air, it was adequate anyway.

_-Passing it on now. But we may not be able to hijack all frequencies – Oil Slick is not Soundwave.-_

_-As many as you can. The main military and news channels are good enough.-_

_-Understood. See you planet-side.-_

With relief he cut the link, in time to run back down the tunnel to Shockwave's lab to get him moving before rendezvousing with the _Retribution_ 's aerial contingent.

-

“Knock Out help!”

The red medic was already hurrying over, joining Smokescreen who was trying to support Ultra Magnus while being told to stop that he was perfectly fine. Knock Out peered at the big wound on his side, welded a part of it, indicated that Magnus should put pressure on a specific place then scurried back to his previous task, all without eye-contact or speaking other than a muttered apology.

Smokescreen watched him run back off in exasperation but held his tongue, instead he turned back to doing his best to keep Magnus on his feet.

“Smokescreen... What is... going on here?”

“Uh. Not really sure on that, sir. Was kind of assuming you knew?”

Ultra Magnus cycled a few vents slowly, then began making his way over to the small group, Smokescreen at his side. Mechs with cuts in their helms were clustering round the shuttle's landing struts, looked after by the few Vehicons still in possession of their t-cogs. They watched their approach warily. 

“I was attacked by members of the Elite Guard. I was given these coordinates by... someone I've been communicating with, though, I'm not sure how he acquired my comm frequency-”

There was an odd choking noise from behind them as Knock Out's engine stuttered.

“-but, it seems I wasn't the only one he was speaking with.”

Smokescreen's door-wings flicked in shock, more focused on the Elite Guard part of that sentence. Unconsciously, his hand drifted up to touch at the Elite Guard insignia he still wore.

“That's crazy! Why would they?”

“I don't know, but I intend to find out.”

“You're going with them?”

Ultra Magnus nodded, his expression determined even if the state of his frame was less so.

“I need to get to the root of this. These devices... I remember them from before the war. They are illegal now, and the fact that so many here have them – how many more are there that didn't make it to this meeting. Something has gone wrong at the very top of our society.”

“Are you sure you can trust whoever set this up?”

“No. But, I would like to.”

People were starting to enter up the shuttle's cargo ramp, Hook was overseeing (and audibly berating) as so many mechs would have to fit inside as well as those members of his own team still stuck in their alt mode. Knock Out went over to the pair, hesitantly.

Ultra Magnus refused another check of his wounds. They were still severe, and would need to be looked at properly when they landed, but he could take a guess that the longer people were here the more likely they would be noticed and caught. He entered the shuttle without interacting with the red speedster further, who was too uncharacteristicly timid to protest.

Smokescreen patted Knock Out's shoulder gently.

“Hey. It's gonna be okay.”

Knock Out snorted, and brushed the hand away.

“You should go, we're about to leave.”

“Yeah, probably. But I think I'm gonna come with, actually.”

“Are you _stupid_? No one will believe you switched sides.”

“It's not about sides, it's about doing the right thing. Plus, Magnus is coming too.”

Briefly, a ghost of the way he used to smile flitted over Knock Out's faceplates. He waved Smokey onwards and they entered the shuttle-former's hold together.

Everyone was crammed together, a lot of the Vehicons sitting on-top of the Constructicons just to make more floor space available. When the shuttle spoke, they could feel the vibrations from his plating.

“Fragging _finally_. Hurry up and stop moving around.”

Hook punched his wall irritably.

“Astrotrain, just shut up and go.”

“ _Fine_ fine.”

The vibrations and rumblings increased as his engines span up and he started coasting out of the hangar bay, having to put his trust in Shockwave's signal disrupters just like the others trapped in alt with their brain modules too far in to reach without surgery or the phase shifter – time they didn't have. 

If the disrupters failed and his I/D chip was detonated, his death and subsequent crash would kill everyone within his hold as well.

Smokescreen shuffled round other frames, spotting Magnus over their heads. The three Seekers had made room for him to lean against Astrotrain's walls and they were helping him remain steady. In the light of the cargo hold, he could see they were each mono-coloured in a different optic-searing primary shade. But also, that they had Autobrands on their lowered wings though they were trying to keep those out of sight.

“You probably don't remember us, Ultra Magnus, sir, but you spoke up for us at our trial.”

“Yes I remember you – Acid Storm, isn't it? Your assistance is appreciated.”

The green Seeker nodded, his quiet response lost in the roar as Astrotrain took off.

Satisfied that Magnus was as okay as he could be right now, Smokescreen sat next to someone he thought he'd seen at the Hall of Records a few times looking up old image captures of Golden Age artwork, along with a similarly lanky red-plated companion. If it was the same mech, then he was peaceborn and had ended up with that 'Con badge in the past year or two.

Aware of his gaze, the golden speedster scowled and moved away to lean against the wall sullenly.

Astrotrain juddered suddenly, and even in his hold they could hear him swearing to himself. The green Seeker helped Ultra Magnus as he staggered, pressing his own talons against the rents in his side to try and stop the flow of energon.

“Someone's shooting at us.”

Smokescreen looked up at the ceiling, judging the distance. Yeah he could probably make that. He fiddled with the settings on the phase shifter carefully before jumping upwards. It blurred him through the shuttle's hull but switched back off before he could fall back through again, and he grabbed hold of Astrotrain's outer plating before he slid off.

Behind were the towers and high-rises of Iacon, and more importantly a flying-V of five jets hot on their tail – the Aerialbots. The shot that had hit Astrotrain must have been a lucky fluke at this range, but they were much faster than the shuttle and would be in more accurate range soon. They were flying over patches of rubble interspersed with construction sites, and in the distance the battered form of Vos' great wall was growing larger. Above that though was a sight that still jump-started his battle-protocols, for all that the war had been over for years.

Far above them, a Decepticon warship was entering the atmosphere, friction shielding glowing as she sliced through the air. Smaller and not as heavily armed as the _Nemesis_ , she was still a formidable sight, especially as there weren't any Autobot warships stationed on the planet at the moment: many of them had been decommissioned after the war and converted to trade and merchant vessels to help bolster Cybertron's fledgling economy. The _Nemesis_ herself had long since been broken down for parts and resources.

“...Really hope you know what you're doing, KO.”

As they overhauled Astrotrain, they fired again. This time one of them got a direct hit on his starboard wing's thruster – he lurched over with a yowl then started to drop down with sickening speed. Smokescreen was swearing constantly as he slithered his way over his outer hull to the wing, helped as much as he could by Astrotrain who managed to catch some of his digits in a transformation seam and grip onto them.

The main fuel-line to the engine was severed, sparks threatened to set the spraying energon on fire. Smokescreen did his best to smother them, screaming at the jets as they passed.

“Stop firing! Silverbolt, you know who I am - _stop shooting!_ ”

Mercifully they did, flying closer to each other as they had a quick internal-comm debate. Smokescreen pressed himself low over the wing, trying to be as aerodynamic as possible while he blocked the leak with the hand not currently clinging onto Astrotrain for his life. The engine sputtered and restarted, and they were levelling off once more, unable to regain altitude but at least no longer losing it. Silverbolt dipped lower, angling closer to Smokescreen.

“But they're _Decepticons!_ ”

“They're escaping,” Slingshot piped up after him.

“So?! Who cares, the war's over! You weren't even in it! Everyone has freedom of movement!”

The youngling jets clustered closer together, seeking reassurance in their uncertainty. Fireflight sounded upset.

“But, we were ordered to? Why are you helping them, why aren't you on our side?”

Smokescreen just vented for a moment, spark twisting in its chamber. _Primus_ they were just _kids_ , and he finally understood how Arcee, Bulkhead and the rest had felt about himself originally.

“I'm not _on_ anyone's side, just stop for a moment and we can talk about-”

A shadow flicked over him and a silver blur that could be no one other than Starscream shot through the middle of the jets' formation and they scattered in different directions, panic and lack of training and discipline leaving them floundering in the Seeker’s passage. Though Silverbolt was their leader he didn't have the experience or confidence necessary for them to listen when he called them back, and both Air Raid and Slingshot shot off in pursuit while Skydive was helping Fireflight pull out of his tailspin. 

Smokescreen could only watch helplessly - even if he had the hand spare to shoot with, Starscream was out of range and apparently assisting them? But he could see more Decepticon flyers coming in from the warship now as well, and with the Aerialbots split into two groups the younglings had lost the only advantage they had - their gestalt form. 

The first of the approaching 'Cons shot by underneath him – not a Seeker, judging from the forward-sweeping wings, but there was no mistaking the Decepticon-purple paintjob _or_ the fact that the flight-frame stooped and dove down after Fireflight as well. 

It was a clear shot, there wasn't anything Smokey could do to help, there was no way Fireflight could outfly someone who'd spent millennia of their life fighting in the air. So when the Decepticon abruptly straightened out instead of firing, then pulled up entirely, it caught him off-guard and he let go of the fuel-line without thinking to snap off a shot, hoping to drive them further away from the Aerialbot. Of course they started plummeting again as Astrotrain's engine failed and he struggled to keep holding onto him.

Another shadow swept over him and Smokescreen looked up again, straight into the barrel of one hell of a cannon. Flattening himself against Astrotrain's plating as much as he was able, he shuttered his optics and braced, holding himself over the rents in the wing and engine plating. Still blocked from using his comm link, Astrotrain's angry roar rattled through his whole frame as he struggled to make himself heard over the noise of the wind and his own sputtering thrusters.

“ _You fire that thing at me I'll **ram** it so far up your afterburner you'll be shooting out your **mouth**!_ ”

The big jet slanted down to the side, moving to flank him instead. Now they were flying side by side Smokescreen could see the Decepticon emblem emblazoned on his wings, as well as a lot of rather incongruous kibble for a flight-frame even excluding the huge gun turret slung underneath him. He didn't have much time for gawking though, and reached down into the hole in Astrotrain's frame, grabbing hold of the ruptured fuel line and doing his best to keep the two halves clamped together. The shuttle straightened up a little, still sinking but no longer pointing directly at the ground.

“Sorry about that, thought your friend was an Autobot.”

The voice boomed out over the sounds of their engines, the other Decepticon carefully drifting underneath them then rising again, pressing up against Astrotrain's belly to try and keep him in the air. A huge bomber fell in on the other side, the noise from their engines made the air throb as they escorted them onwards. Starscream was wheeling back round now as well, looking dwarfed in size compared to the larger, slower flight-frames.

There was no sign of the remaining Aerialbots – they must have turned back towards Iacon. Or, they had been shot down and killed and he shuttered his optics again uneasily, not for the first time today hoping that Knock Out did actually know what he was doing.

-

Bumblebee was hopping down off of the lift platform as soon as it cleared the basement ceiling, unable to wait for it to fully lower. Russell and Cody ran to meet him.

“How many signals now?”

“Still just two.”

“They're at my dad's yard!”

The three of them went over to where Fixit had plugged his scanner into the Rescue Bots' console, followed by the others that had come down. Sideswipe was shifting his weight from foot to foot impatiently.

“Are we gonna go arrest them already?”

Bee pushed in past him to examine the tracking program now loaded on the main screen. Fixit was still tapping away, checking and rechecking cross-references in his databases, muttering to himself.

“No tracer chips – not from the _Alchemor_. Don't have their mark-lark- _zzzt_ - **spark** -signatures on record... hrm...”

Bumblebee watched the two blips on the screen as they circled round.

“We're picking up the signal because they're broadcasting it – they want to be found. That makes sense, if they know Soundwave is on this planet but they don't know Autobots are as well.”

Fixit nodded and zoomed the map further in.

“I think your theory is correct Lieutenant – they are directly over, or in, the perimeter of the scrapyard now.”

Denny slipped round a leg to look as well.

“Man, they better not be trashing my stuff...”

The two blips circled again, then abruptly changed course and shot off over the forests before abruptly disappearing from the scanner. Fixit tried zooming in and out, searching for their specific signal to no avail.

“If that human group are still there, they may have just been shot down...”

The platform to the garage started lowering again, this time with the Rescue Bots on. As soon as it reached the floor, Heatwave stormed over, hauled Bee round by the arm and swung at his face. Bumblebee caught the fist in his own, stopping himself from automatically pulling his weapon. Heatwave snarled and struggled but was unable to pull his hand back out of Bee's grip.

“You _knew!_ You _lied_ to us!”

Bumblebee let him go when he was sure he wouldn't try and punch him again. Boulder pulled Heatwave back, and Chase put himself between them and the rest of Team Bee who weren't that willing to follow their leader's command to stand down.

“Everyone just calm down for a moment.”

Graham and Chief pushed through into the middle, forcing both sides to move further apart to avoid accidentally crushing them. Kade was talking to Heatwave, both of them whispering angrily to each other.

“What seems to be the problem?”

Heatwave ignored both Chief and Kade, and pushed past Chase and Boulder. As he advanced on Megatron, Soundwave stepped forward one step and raised his arm out to the side, blocking his way forwards. Heatwave didn't know how Soundwave acted, so he didn't know how much of a threat warning the simple gesture actually was.

Red plating bristling, he moved to push past the skinny mech, only for Bumblebee to catch hold of his arm.

“Your problem's with me, not him.”

“My _problem_ is with all three of you! When exactly were you going to tell us who that was? Cause you don't have the best _track record_ with keeping people informed.”

Blades held up his hands, trying to placate both of them.

“Hey we already talked about that. Heatwave, stop it!”

“ _ **No!**_ That is a _monster_ that destroyed our home, _how dare you_ bring him here! If it hadn't been for Optimus Prime, Cybertron would _still_ be gone!”

Megatron surged to his full height. This time the anger caught hold, blazed up, and he embraced it willingly, his voice like thunder.

“ _I_ could have _restored_ Cybertron, _I_ had the Omega Lock, it was _your Prime_ that destroyed it!”

Bumblebee immediately snapped back, door-wings hiked up in an angry 'V' as he of course leapt to his leader's defence. 

“ _Only_ because you would have just tried to conquer it again!”

“ _Of **course**_ I would have! I certainly don’t trust anyone _else_ to rule it properly!”

The other Autobots were backed down, as were the Rescue Bots and the humans - unable to think of how to intervene that wouldn’t set off a real fight.

A tremendous bellow broke the argument, making everyone else jump and Megatron and Bumblebee to flinch down and instinctively look upwards even though they were indoors, because they both recognised it as Predaking’s roar.

Content that he now had Megatron’s attention, and everyone else’s, Soundwave stopped the audio playback and pointed back over to the console screen. The map had changed, it was now displaying what must be Griffin Rock with its cluster of Autobot signals, plus Soundwave himself. But father off the coast on another smaller island, a Decepticon signal flickered in and out.

“How? Did they groundbridge somehow?” 

Soundwave looked at him, considering, then pulled up a datasheet from his own systems rather than the _Alchemor_ 's. Bee looked at the person it was for and his door-wings wilted downwards. 

_'That explains that.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my GOD this chapter! I am so sorry this took so long! I also haven't re-read through so if bits don't make sense or are a bit brief, sorry I just wanted to get it posted so I never have to look at it again
> 
> Hopefully you all haven't given up on this X3
> 
> Don't have an ETA on the next chapter either unfortunately, but probably this year (hopefully)
> 
> Oh yes if anyone wants to say hi/ask stuff/just chat i have a tumbler I check regularly (tho don't post often, but I could post writing status updates if people are interested in that?) I'm carinatae there too


	8. If We Don't Fuck This Whole Thing Up

Astrotrain entered Vos in more of a controlled crash than a landing, sliding to a stop in the rubble-strewn plaza that surrounded the Winglord's Spire. Smokescreen hung on tightly to avoid being thrown off of the shuttle's wing – he could only guess how much those within the hold had been tossed about.

The other triple-changer cut his engines and landed next to them in root-mode with a crash, followed by his larger companion. They both towered over Smokescreen, who was too slow to get down before one of them grabbed a door-wing and dangled him at eye-level.

“Hey! You _are_ an Autobot!”

The joint wasn't meant to bend that way, certainly not meant to hold the weight of his entire frame, and the strain jolted pain through his sensory-net. He twisted in their grip to readjust the phase-shifter then dropped through the claws, and Astrotrain's wing, to the ground underneath. Smokescreen remained crouched there, where they couldn't reach him but he could still see what was going on, while Astrotrain himself snapped at them to lay off for the moment.

More jet-engines sounded the arrival of other flyers, but they were quickly drowned out by the noise of the _Retribution_ hovering overhead as she swung round above the city, her crew struggling to find a clear place to land.

The jet that Smokescreen had seen go after the Aerialbots had landed nearby and had moved closer to the group by the shuttle, out of the way of the ship. Smokescreen expected his position to be given away to someone who's frame would fit under Astrotrain to reach him but the attention of everyone was drawn quickly to Starscream – who had landed soon after the purple 'Con, and immediately started to berate him.

“What part of _'do not engage'_ did you not understand the first two times?!”

The rest of the conversation was lost as the _Retribution_ settled slowly down on repulsor-lifts, kicking up clouds of rust and debris. Smokescreen ducked further under Astrotrain's hull as the other flyers that had escorted them went over to re-join their comrades that were disembarking from the ship's beam-elevator.

Strika was first off, and she strode over to get the angry Seeker's attention by bluntly standing in-between him and her teammate.

“You owe me that explanation. Now.”

Starscream waved her away, more interested in those leaving the ship behind her. Mostly genericons – the majority Vehicons with only a handful of Eradicons – the rest of Strika's original team, Seekers, all of the Combaticons... It seemed the crew manifest he'd been given was actually accurate. That was _surprising_ , and he knew it shouldn't be – why wouldn't a report be accurate if it was going to the Second in Command of the entire fleet? More hold-overs from Earth he thought he'd erased.

“Yes, yes, once everyone is situated. And discipline your subordinates properly.”

The last was said with a side-eyed glare at Cyclonus who stood absolutely unmoved. Starscream dismissed him with a flick of a wing and strode over to Astrotrain instead, who had lowered his ramp to allow the rest of the fugitives from Iacon to get out of him.

Those with access to root-mode were getting off first, so that the others stuck in alt-mode had space to reverse back out. One of the first out was Ultra Magnus, hand still held over the wound in his side, and his frown didn't change on being greeted by even more Decepticons. Not expecting such a high-ranked Autobot to suddenly be in their midst, the newcomers pulled their weapons on him, waiting for Strika to give the order to attack.

She didn't, and just watched in stony silence with her arms folded over her chest as Starscream greeted him like an old friend. It was some consolation that Ultra Magnus seemed as frustrated with the Seeker as she was.

“You did decide to come then, I-”

“Starscream. I require both an explanation for this 'escape', and also details on the devices that are-”

They spoke at the same time, and both stopped to let the other speak. Now that it wasn't the middle of an acid-rain storm, Ultra Magnus could properly see the Seeker's appearance and how it reflected his life during the peace, of deprivation and barely surviving.

It was the first time in five years that he'd flown for so long, so fast, and had to fight, and it showed in the faint tremors running through his frame and rattling his wings. It wasn't something that most would notice, but Ultra Magnus had always had an optic for small details and his voice softened somewhat.

“Starscream, you are unwell.”

The Seeker looked him up and down, the ghost of a smirk on his face.

“You're one to talk.”

Remembering again they had an audience, and they were also blocking the exit from Astrotrain's cargo hold, Starscream beckoned both him and Strika away. He caught a flash of red as Knock Out slunk out without acknowledgement before he was hidden again behind the Rainmaker trine and a bunch of Vehicons with Autobrands, calling out greetings to those they recognised.

“Perhaps the pair of you will join me in the Spire, and we can discuss matters more... privately?”

That got a snort from Strika, but she did follow after snapping out a series of commands to her troops, to form a perimeter and assign lookouts, and so forth. 

Starscream led the way into the lab in the base of the Winglord's Spire – more like Winglord's _stump_ he thought briefly with bitter humour – and steadied himself against the table he'd been using. He was feeling the effects the acid rain had had on his plating now, fuel warnings were piling up and it was a struggle to keep his composure as it should be.

Of course, he had a an idea of what he would say to them, had a plan to keep them willing to help. It was one as easy to him now as flying was, which was lie and keep lying if it meant he stayed even one step ahead of everyone else. Eventually they'd forget he'd ever said differently. He hoped.

-

Briefly, the argument in the firehouse had threatened to swing back down into a fight – Heatwave was already infuriated with Bumblebee and the appearance of two more Decepticons just offshore was not helping anyone's mood. 

But at least the firemech was responsible enough to accept that the situation was what it was even if he regretted allowing someone who had turned out to be Megatron anywhere near Griffin Rock.

The rest of the Rescue Bots were continuing to prepare for the storm, though they were uncharacteristically silent and looked rather worried. Bumblebee had indicated to his team to give them space while he discussed what their actions needed to be with Chief Burns and Heatwave.

It wasn't going that well. Even if the pair in need of help hadn't been Decepticons, there was still the storm to consider and the safety of the island had to -for the Rescue Bots- come first. And it wasn't going to make getting to the Seekers any easier either.

Apparently the island they had reappeared on was in fact Wayward Island, which Bumblebee had been to before when he'd first inadvertently met the Rescue Bots. Unfortunately because it was covered densely in trees there was nowhere for the _Sigma_ to land on it, so they'd have to travel by boat, much like they had when dealing with the meteor that had once impacted there.

“How many can your ship carry? If most of my team were to remain here and assist with any storm damage, it might be best if one of the 'Cons here were to accompany us, to prevent anything from happening while we're gone.”

“Unfortunately the _Darby Ava_ can only hold so much weight, especially in these weather conditions. I think it might be best if Heatwave and Blades were to accompany us, and I can bring you and one or two more onboard.”

There wasn't much Bumblebee could do but agree, there weren't really any further options. Heatwave cut him off before he could say so.

“Fine. We pick them up, put them in stasis, give them medical attention, I don't care. But after that, all four of them are _gone_ , got it?”

“That's fine. As soon everyone is fit to walk we'll be leaving. I didn't intend for us to remain here this long. Although, Chief Burns, I think it would be best if Denny and Russell were to remain here instead – I don't think they'll come to further harm from any human organisation while on Griffin Rock.”

Chief just nodded, instead of previously trying to persuade them all to stay. “That might be for the best.”

But even though Bee tried to convince himself that was the right thing, it still worried him to leave them behind without protection – not since the destruction of Jasper had he so _spectacularly_ failed his human charges. Bee pulled his mind away from that with effort, he had time to blame himself later. Right now he needed to assess everyone's readiness, and make sure he could prevent this from spiralling further out of control.

Sideswipe was injured and depressed, Grimlock was subdued as well. Strongarm was trying to hide her own feelings by worrying about everyone else. Bumbleblee himself was still feeling the effects of having most of his energon ripped out. Fixit was injured – _all_ the minicons were uncomfortable and on edge thanks to Soundwave. It was uncharitable and he felt guilty for merely even thinking it, but it would probably be better if Soundwave were to not recover. The silent mech was formidable even when injured, and Bee's team wasn't at full strength any more. And of course, there was the situation with Megatron.

At least when they had been enemies, even crazed with Dark Energon, Megatron had been predictable enough - if only so much that he would do the direct opposite of whatever Optimus did. But now he was erratic, swinging back and forth between moods, and invulnerable to conventional weaponry. Plus they were directly in the middle of a human population centre with two Decepticons that had killed humans before.

With any luck, the Seekers' own ship was warped to the island with them, and Bee could just send all four of them back into space and out of mind.

_'But when have I been that lucky this week...'_

He shook those thoughts away again, and considered the problems he could actually fix – they needed a _win_ , something they could achieve and make a difference in. Bumblebee nodded.

“Then it might be best if my team each pair with a rescue worker, who can show them how best to help.”

It was an easy decision – Grimlock with Boulder and Sideswipe with Chase – until he got to Strongarm and ran out of Rescue Bots. Thankfully Cody piped up instead.

“I can go with Strongarm if Russell and Mr Clay are alright forwarding messages in the command centre.”

Russell shrugged and nodded. “At least the keyboard's written in English this time, how hard can it be.”

“Alright, that's settled then. Thanks Russell.”

Bee nodded at them. He was still worried about Russell but figured that being kept busy was better than brooding. Strongarm transformed and flicked a passenger door open so Cody could get in, then they headed out followed by Grim and Boulder.

She commed him a few moments later.

_-Remember to breathe, lieutenant.-_

The human phrasing made him smile – Cybertron didn't have an equivalent figure of speech, but he understood her meaning. Earth had rubbed off on everyone, it seemed.

_-Thank you cadet. Good luck out there.-_

Finally, he turned back to Drift who was still standing off to one side, his students semi-obscured behind his legs. 

“We're taking Megatron and leaving Soundwave – I need you to stay here and- and make sure nothing happens.”

“Of course. In exchange, I have a request.”

The swordsmech tilted his head towards Sideswipe, who had lingered to exchange a quiet word with Russell before heading out after Chase.

“I would prefer if my students were assisting outside of this building. For their education.”

It was understandable, from what Bumblebee had observed in the past few days, and also from what he'd seen back in the war before the original crash-landing on Earth, that Drift (always overprotective of them in general) wouldn't want the pair around Soundwave. Jetstorm and Slipstream remained unusually quiet, allowing Drift to make their request.

“That's fine, if Sides is alright with it?” Bee nodded, raising his voice a little on the last part so that Sideswipe would overhear.

“Sure guys, hop on.”

Sideswipe held his arms out so they could clamp onto his forearms in their deployer alt-mode, then he sped out after Chase.

All of that dealt with, it was time for everyone else to head down to the docks and make their way to Wayward Island.

Except that Soundwave was still stood among them instead of staying in the living area section of the bunker where Drift was. Megatron's hand moved awkwardly, about to touch his Third's shoulder before thinking better of it.

“Soundwave. You will remain here.”

It wasn't that Megatron felt Soundwave was still too weak to accompany them – he _wasn't_. While he wasn't yet at 100%, that was normal for Soundwave to function on low power and Megatron knew he'd spent most of the war at around 30-50% fuel without significant affect to his efficiency.

But the Autobots were still under the impression he was an invalid and Megatron didn't want to disabuse them of that notion. The pair were still outnumbered (though not out-skilled), there was no need yet for Megatron to overplay his hand. And, primarily, while he knew Soundwave was recovering _physically_ he wasn't so certain of how he was mentally, which he could admit as worrying if only that it may prevent Soundwave from being useful.

Or so he told himself.

Soundwave himself however, disagreed strongly with the decision and instead of remaining where he was, he stood between Megatron and the other 'Bots, unwilling to allow Megatron to go alone.

“Soundwave, stand down. I will return soon.”

Soundwave did not, and he fought the automatic reaction to obey, his frame twitched a little but he remained in place.

“Soundwave-” Bee started, but was interrupted by the _click_ of the spymaster's speakers activating.

_/If you consider my actions foolish in future, then question me on them/_

Dumbfounded, Megatron sputtered for a moment before gathering his wits.

“I made that remark under _very different circumstances_.”

Soundwave remained unmoved.

In the end, they compromised and Soundwave remained behind while Laserbeak accompanied Megatron.

Such compromises were the foundations of their relationship – things like moving one of the best front-liners you'd ever seen into an administrative role, or bending your oath of silence just enough that pre-recorded voice-clips of other people didn't count as breaking it.

-

“- _and_ you're not even _listening_ to me!”

Prowl set his datapad neatly back down on his desk with a frown and turned to fully face Bluestreak.

“I always listen to you. You know that.”

Bluestreak flung himself into the chair opposite, huffing. He did know that, he'd just wanted Prowl to _look_ like he was paying attention as well, even though he also knew that Prowl could multi-task far more things at once than just this conversation and the day's reports.

“I just don't get what the problem is. You didn't want him here in the first place, he doesn't even want to _be_ an Enforcer, just transfer him back to Iacon. We get Jazz instead, Barricade gets to be asked what _he_ actually wants to do with his life, everybody wins.”

Bluestreak couldn't keep the frustration out of his voice, it wasn't fair! Just because he had red optics and black plating, that didn't mean Barricade should be treated like a _Decepticon!_ He came out of the Well after the end of the war for Primus' sake! Prowl was unmoved.

“No one ever asked me what I wanted to be either, it's hardly a crime.”

That piece of Prowl's life was news to Bluestreak, and he faltered before continuing desperately.

“That doesn't make it right at all! You can't tell me you'd rather have him here instead of Jazz.”

Prowl looked back down at his desk, struggling to find the right words to fix an argument he hadn't initially realised he was in.

“I am sure there is a reasonable explanation for why Jazz was arrested, legal procedures take time to-”

“You're doing that _thing_ again where you _lie_ to me.”

“ **Blue-** ”

There was a timid tap on the door, and Barricade called them from outside.

“Uhh, sirs, you should probably come listen to this?”

Bluestreak got up first, muttering quietly so the cadet couldn't hear them through the door. “This isn't over by the way!”

Prowl took a moment to save a note of where he was up to in his work, then followed Bluestreak out. He didn't acknowledge the retort – in his head it was simply not up for discussion.

Barricade led them back into the reception area where he normally worked, his door-wings betrayed his agitation and worry. The vidscreen set up in the room was switched on, but it wasn't displaying the newscast cycle as normal – instead the screen was just static, but there was a voice being broadcast over it.

“That's _**Starscream**_.”

Barricade had always known Bluestreak as good-natured to a fault, so the flat snarl of his engine was shocking as they listened to the hijacked signal playing the Seeker's message. Prowl put a hand on Bluestreak's shoulder.

“ _-and furthermore, I, Winglord Starscream, will-_ ”

“It's been repeating like that for six minutes now. What does it mean?” Barricade spoke over it, as the Seeker's voice ended and was replaced by another's.

“ _-is General Strika of the Decepticon war vessel_ Retribution _. Any threats made to the sovereignty of Vos and its borders will be met with force-_ ”

“It means Starscream isn't fragging offline. Why is he still online, you said he was _gone!_ ”

Bluestreak shrugged the hand off of his shoulder as he snapped at Prowl. The well-meant explanation did nothing to soothe him.

“I said that if he were to be still online, it was very unlikely not to have heard anything from him in so long.”

“Whatever! We're going to fight them, right? We can't just sit here and let the Decepticons take over Cybertron again!”

Prowl shook his head, attention more on the replaying messages. The loop cut off again, but instead of repeating it was replaced by the visual and audio feed of the news station reporters, who looked extremely worried as they apologised to viewers and began discussing the signal hijacking. It could safely be assumed that everyone tuned to that frequency had heard the Decepticon messages, if it wasn't responded to swiftly by the Autobot Council then the populace could easily mass-panic. His own actions were obvious.

“I am going to Iacon to assess the situation. You are staying here.”

Bluestreak was halfway to the front door when he whirled back round angrily.

“You're not my _mentor_ any more, you can't _make me_ stay behind!”

“No. I am your commanding officer. You are to remain here in charge of the station until I return, and that is an order.”

Bluestreak stared at him dumbfounded, mouth moving silently, before he managed to hiss out a “Fine!” and stormed out of the reception room back down the corridor to his own office. Prowl watched him go, not understanding why he'd reacted so badly – it wasn't like Prowl was leaving to drive straight to Vos and attack Starscream by himself, he was just travelling to Iacon to both gather the full facts of the situation and to re-offer his services as Autobot Command Staff and Head of Tactical to the Cybertron Council. It wasn't like he wouldn't either be returning in a few days or calling Bluestreak to join him there, and sending another Enforcer captain to take on Nyon in their stead. Barricade could hardly be expected to run the entire station by himself even if there wasn't much to do most days.

It would simply never occur to him that this was actually the first time he'd pulled rank on Bluestreak like that, when during the war he'd given his young charge an extraordinary amount of leeway. Sighing a silent ex-vent, he turned back to Barricade.

The youngling looked worried, upset, unsure what to do while his superior officers had a domestic argument in front of him, and with Blue's earlier comment in mind Prowl made an effort to appear less stern when he addressed him.

“Barricade.”

He straightened to attention, black door-wings flicked in a salute.

“Sir?”

Prowl looked him up and down, and Barricade stiffened further under his gaze. That made Prowl feel a little guilty – maybe Blue was right and he had been acting unreasonable. Didn't winning the war mean that anyone could be anything they wanted to be, not what they were told to? He would bring _that_ up with the Council too.

For now there wasn't much he could do about it, except try and not keep scaring the cadet. Prowl forced his expression into something he hoped came off as more relaxed, and nodded to him.

“You've passed your probation. Congratulations.”

Barricade barely had time to stammer out a thank you before Prowl continued.

“Bluestreak is in command while I am away. ”

“Yes sir.”

Prowl was ready to head out immediately – any personal effects not big enough to fit in his subspace from before the war had been lost along with Praxus. And the war hadn't given any opportunities for him to acquire more. The only thing he needed to do was finish the day's reports, which Bluestreak could do instead. But that meant asking Bluestreak to do them right now, while he was reacting irrationally.

His battle-computer didn't process simulations so well when forced to include less quantifiable things like emotional reactions, but giving Blue time to calm down again was the best it suggested, at around 78.25% success. So Prowl decided to leave without saying goodbye, in case doing so would emphasis the fact he was going alone. 

“Please ask Bluestreak to finish and file the incomplete reports.”

A few quick strides got him out the door after Barricade's acknowledgement. He could have asked Barricade to say goodbye for him, but that would have been unprofessional.

He should comm, but decided it would be better to wait until after meeting with the Council, so he could update Blue on the situation at the same time. Prowl transformed, and set out without any further delay.

-

For some reason, Sideswipe had assumed that being in a rescue team would be _exciting_. Instead it was a lot of driving around waiting for something to happen. He didn't even get to distract himself by annoying Strongarm, because she was on the other side of town with that other kid.

Chase did not want to engage in banter while they waited. Over even seem to know what it was! He did have some sense of humour – or at least Sideswipe had assumed he'd been joking when he threatened to arrest him after the red speedster had gone through a red light.

Maybe not though, because right now Chase was _helpfully_ reciting to him the entirety of Griffin Rock's road laws.

_'It's not **my** fault this planet has as many regulations as Cybertron! Not like there's time to remember what side of the road you're supposed to be on when you're chasing a Decepticon anyway!'_

Thoughts of Cybertron turned into thoughts of _home_ , and his spark twisted a little. He felt bad for skipping out on his mentor like that, the old mech probably had no idea what had happened to him. At least Sideswipe didn't have to keep hearing the same lecture over and over about why he couldn't act more like his brother, every time Bumblebee had caught him street-racing or vandalising things and had escorted him back home instead of writing him up.

At least Sunny knew he was still online, though not much more than that – the distance was almost too much for their split-spark to reach. And he knew Sunny was still online too, so that was something. 

_'Probably too busy being **so fragging perfect** to notice I'm not there.'_

Caught up in thoughts, he nearly rear-ended Chase by accident when they stopped at another intersection. Sideswipe huffed to himself, already bored with the slow pace, and instead switched to their team comm frequency so Chase wouldn't be able to hear him.

_-Yo Rusty, wh- -_

_-It's Russell.-_

_-Sure yeah, that's what I said,-_ he rocked on his axles. _-How are things there? Tell me **something** is happening that doesn't involve waiting at red lights!-_

 _-Uh, well, a powerline nearly came down up on the ridge above town, I already told Grimlock that...-_ There was a pause as he flipped through different camera views. _-Looks like people are staying indoors but the waves are getting pretty high at the docks. How are you?-_

_-Oh, just great. It would have been nice to have some warning the people here had cloned Strongarm and--Hey I can hear your dad in the background, is everything alright?-_

That pause was even longer, and Sideswipe sent Chase the update on the docks while he waited for a reply. A crackle came over the line as Russell leant closer to the mic so he could whisper.

_-I don't know, he's been on the phone for ages. It's my mom.-_

The light went green and Sideswipe forced himself to move forwards at a more sensible speed, keeping pace with Chase. He could be just as responsible as Strongarm dammit, who didn't have a Rescue Bot chaperone.

_-And that's bad, is it?-_

_-My dad's not the easiest person to live with. They don't really talk any more, unless it's about me...-_

In the pause-filled conversation, Sideswipe could hear Denny again – his voice sounded shaky and full of false enthusiasm, an odd thing to hear from someone who'd always taken Cybertronians in his stride.

_“Come on, I'm sure it's just a prank- If aliens existed it'd be all over the news- Yeah-Yeah I did see that but I thought that was some terrorist thi-No- **No** everything's **fine** here, you don't have to-”_

It trailed off again as Denny paced further away, beyond the pickup range of the mic.

Thankfully, before Sideswipe died of boredom, lightning struck one of the nearby telephone poles and knocked it over against a row of houses. Chase's siren activated immediately and he swung round and accelerated towards it. Sideswipe vented in relief and followed.

_-I'll call you back, dealing with something here.-_

He knew he shouldn't feel glad that he had something to do now – there were humans trapped and in danger because of it – but the expected guilt was muted. Over the past few days he'd had a crash-course in how dangerous humanity could be – and how fragile.

That device he'd been hit with back at the scrapyard... _nothing_ had ever hurt him like that. And then the corpses he'd seen – one swing of Soundwave's arm had been enough to obliterate them.

He still hadn't really processed everything that had happened, had been trying not to think about it, and he was happy to let Chase evacuate the humans with Slipstream and Jetstorm's assistance, while Sideswipe removed the pole and torn-down cables. He didn't know these humans, was wary of being too close to them. Russell was different – Russell was his _friend_. But he didn't trust the rest of them, not even the Burns family.

-

Smokescreen sat perched on a spur of metal sticking out from the wreckage of one of the fallen spires. Next to him, Knock Out was lying down, heedless of his finish, with his upper body phased into Astrotrain's hull to remove the explosive charge from his brain-module. Below them, the Constructicons had put up a makeshift lean-to to function as a field medbay as Hook worked on fully removing the Vehicons' I/D chips.

It made Smokescreen feel obscurely guilty – even though he'd had nothing to do with this, had not even _known_ – he'd never felt ashamed of his badge before. They were supposed to be the good guys!

And Ultra Magnus still hadn't really explained what had happened to him or who had attacked him. Smokescreen shifted a bit, flexing his pulled door-wing and looked over at the half-collapsed stump where the three commanders had disappeared into. There'd been no sounds of fighting, so hopefully things were going well there. One of the big Decepticons that had escorted Astrotrain in the air – Lugnut – was standing guard by the door, otherwise Smokescreen would have been tempted to eavesdrop.

Knock Out kicked a foot against his leg and Smokescreen carefully pulled him back over the ledge and out of the shuttle. He couldn't pull himself up because his arms were still phased out, his hands clutched tightly round the I/D chip, charge and wiring. It was more extensive than the other ones as it had had to lock out two modes rather than one.

Astrotrain didn't transform (though he very much wanted to), as Knock Out still had to fix his wing, but now he was free from the threat of having his head blown out from inside him, he could start bitching about it again.

“Hurry the frag up already, this is ridiculous!”

Knock Out ignored him, more focused on the bomb he was holding. After a moment's hesitation he threw it as hard as he could, away from anyone else. It exploded in mid-air, loud enough to make everyone jump, and distracted the mechs that Strika had ordered to stand guard and keep a lookout.

After he once more returned the phase-shifter to Smokescreen, Knock Out stepped out onto Astrotrain's wing to where he'd been hit in the flight. More heavily plated than other types of flight-frames thanks to the shielding needed when re-entering atmosphere, the wing wouldn't be further damaged from Knock Out's added weight although it was still uncomfortable (and in a normal situation, extremely bad mannered). Smokescreen rolled the phase-shifter back and forth in his hands contemplatively, then clipped it back to his wrist. If he needed it in a hurry, he didn't want to be hunting in his subspace for it.

He watched Knock Out work on the damaged thruster as he thought, only semi-listening to the pair as the repairs went under way, still struggling with what he ought to say to Knock Out. They needed to talk, about a lot of things, but Smokescreen found himself at an uncharacteristic loss for words.

“Alright, try that now.”

Knock Out had dropped down from the wing to the ground and stepped back. From the outcropping above, Smokescreen could see the plating on Astrotrain's back shiver and flex, struggling to fold along his transformation seams. He'd been in alt-mode so long a lot of his plating had started to stick together and the transformation was a few minutes long rather than the brief second it took for a healthy Cybertronian.

When he was back in root-mode he had to drop down quickly, in a mix of a crouch and sitting, unsteady on legs he hadn't used since the end of the war. Blitzwing was there to catch him when he nearly wobbled right over.

The pair of triple-changers slowly walked off, Blitzwing keeping Astrotrain upright, and to offset any thoughts that they might actually _care_ about one another, they had launched into another argument loud enough that everyone could hear how much they _didn't_ care.

Knock Out began walking away too, without looking back, and Smokescreen had to scramble back down to catch up with him and grab hold of an arm. 

“Wait! We really, _really_ need to talk.”

“It can wait. I need to go help Hook with the rest of them.”

Even though he responded, he didn't turn to face Smokescreen – even though Knock Out was around fellow Decepticons again, it didn't look like he enjoyed being there and Smokescreen said as much.

Knock Out ignored that and when Smokescreen refused to let go of his arm, Knock Out yanked it out of his grip.

“I told you not to come here.”

“I don't even understand why _you're_ here! You _hate_ Starscream, you said so!”

That made the red speedster laugh, but there was no mirth in it.

“Well it turns out I hate Starscream less than being treated like some criminal.”

It was to Smokescreen's credit that he bit back the instinctive, angry retort – that to a lot of people, Knock Out _was_ 'some criminal'. He also knew that Knock Out really _had_ tried, and had gotten a lot of grief (up to and including being spat at in the street) especially from civilians who shouldn't get to have an opinion on the war if they hadn't cared enough to fight in it. But it felt like he was being lumped in with everyone else and that wasn't fair!

“I never did that! I thought we were _friends!_ ”

Knock Out didn't apologise, but he at least gave an explanation.

“I'm here because it's just easier, okay? I know Starscream and I know what buttons to push to get what I want. And I'm tired of having to rely on someone else's charity.”

“You're always tired.”

That was something that had worried Smokescreen for a few years now, but he hadn't known how to fix Knock Out's increasing lethargy. It hadn't been something he understood at first, especially as Knock Out rarely went outside ('how can you be tired if you never _do_ anything?!'), and he still didn't know what would help now. 

Instead he just took a step back, sighing.

“You know what, nevermind. We can talk when you're not busy.”

Watching him join the group of Constructicons, Smokescreen tried comming Arcee again, but got nothing – with the stormfront now moving over Tarn towards Vos it was interfering with all comm signals between here and Iacon. Frustrated, he stalked off towards the perimeter of the ruined plaza they had landed in – he was in bad enough of a mood to start picking fights and so felt getting some space away from any trigger-happy 'Cons was a good idea for both himself and everyone else.

A glint of yellow plating caught his attention, and he switched directions. That kid from before – now Smokey wasn't trying to keep a severed fuel line together with his bare hands, he had time to remember where he recognised him from. Though admittedly he mostly remembered his red-plated friend, for nearly breaking an artefact on display. Come to think of it, that was the last time he'd seen either of them.

“Hey. It's Sunstreaker, right? You used to visit the Hall of Records a lot. What are you doing here?”

Sunstreaker turned to face him as he approached. With most of his plating the one bright colour, it made his Decepticon badge stand out even more as the obvious answer to Smokescreen's question. The sight of it made Smokescreen even more angry, though he tried to hide that. The _nerve_ of the 'Cons, recruiting people too young to know better!

“Look, I don't know what kind of stuff they've told you, but these are dangerous mechs. You shouldn't have come here, it's not safe. Your mentor will be worried about you.”

A sullen stare was all the response he thought he was gonna get, until the youngling spoke up above the sound of his engine revving confrontationally.

“My mentor doesn't care where I go.”

“That's still no excuse to join the Decepticons!”

Sunstreaker looked confused, then angry, then he looked down at the purple badge on his chest like he'd forgotten momentarily that it was there. With one motion, he tore the badge off of his plating and dropped it amongst the rubble.

“I am _not_ a fragging _Decepticon_.” He snarled through gritted teeth and stormed away, off in the direction of where Smokescreen had initially intended to go brood himself.

Nonplussed, Smokescreen watched him go.

_'What the hell is even that kid's problem anyway. Primus.'_

His door-wings sagged down and he consciously put them back up to a more happy position, with a deep vent. Being angry at the situation wasn't going to change it. Being patient and hoping Ultra Magnus could keep the peace was what he needed to do. He wasn't some rookie with the luxury of getting to go sulk, he should be responsible. 

Right now, most of the mecha present were milling around the medbay area – an even mix of helping and hindering, from what he could tell. But the _Retribution_ 's Vehicons were trying to rig up some rudimentary shelters from the oncoming storm, and Smokescreen went to lend them a hand.

-

Ultra Magnus had never met Strika in person, but he had fought campaigns against her forces during the war and he respected her affinity for tactics and her strength on the battlefield. Starscream, however, was another matter. He was no longer the dangerous fighter Ultra Magnus remembered from the Earth campaign, nor the confident officer of the early Cybertron years of the war. It seemed the years of peace had been less kind to him than they had to many others – most obviously the missing arm.

Most obvious but not most strange. As he watched the Seeker drag over some more storage crates and equipment boxes to use as seats, the arm didn't appear to hinder him much so he must have had a long time to get used to compensating for the injury. 

But in their conversation, Starscream looked filled with an almost manic, nervous energy. His gaze flitted about between Magnus, Strika, and the room in general, unable to focus on one thing for too long. His body language followed suit with twitchy plating and tapping claws. Strika had noticed it too, but instead of politely pretending not to see, she was brusque in her responses.

“Enough prattle. The message you had us transmit was nothing like what you discussed with me previously. Explain yourself, and the presence of this _Autobot_.”

Interrupted mid-flow, Starscream scowled at her but his wings flinched visibly downwards for a moment before he collected himself.

“Perhaps you just didn't understand what I actually meant, _obviously_ , and I personally invited Ultra Magnus here to-”

“It was not precisely an 'invitation'.”

Ultra Magnus spoke up for the first time in the meeting, taking a mental note of another wing twitch – whether Starscream realised it or not, he was coming off as being afraid of their every reaction.

“N-No, of course not! I merely offered as you appeared to require the assistance!”

Strika was staring at Starscream with thinly veiled disgust.

“Grovelling does not become you, _Commander_. Nor does having me repeat your claptrap about _neutrality_ and _peace_ and whatever these supposed similarities are between _our_ Charter and _their_ ridiculous nonsense.”

Before the Seeker could respond to that, Ultra Magnus half-rose to his feet, his voice pained as the movement jostled his injury.

“You said that? I thought you didn't believe me, what message was this?”

“If you would both sit and listen to me, I can explain.”

They both actually did so, and without further fuss. It wasn't a reaction Starscream was used to, or really expecting – especially not from Strika. Either Megatron had never given the order to humiliate his Second further (surely not!), or Soundwave had gone behind his lord's back and covered up Starscream's various 'disgraces' from the rest of the Decepticon fleet. Unlikely maybe, but even so Starscream found himself almost missing the little snitch. They'd gotten on quite well during the quiet years on Earth, with a minimum of back-chat. During that time Starscream had even entertained fantasies of somehow luring Soundwave's legendary loyalty onto himself instead. 

Up until Megatron had showed up again after three years in space, with no army, even less sanity, and wrecked _everything_.

He vented quietly, both to help calm himself back down and to give a little bit of extra time to pick his words. This would require the utmost care to pull off.

“The war is over. That much is certain. But it's apparent to me that neither side has delivered on promises made at the beginning of it. One only has to look at the composition of this supposed 'United' Cybertron Council – full of the Senators responsible for the injustices of the 'Golden Age' and with only one _ex_ -Decepticon, if he can even be counted as _that_ as so far as I recall, Ratbat defected some time after the conquest of Paradron.”

Ultra Magnus interrupted him, though he looked apologetic for doing so. “To correct your assumptions, this is only an interim Council formed to maintain stability after the war. Elections are currently underway and the votes are to be tallied tomorrow. Cybertron will be ruled by the choice of its people, not those who met previous criteria, of which I might add would also include you. Furthermore, Councillor Ratbat has always been treated civilly and was one of the most outspoken against the amendments to the Reintegration Act.”

“And how many Decepticons do you think are allowed to run in these elections? Or do you think whoever counts the votes will allow a place to someone with an I/D chip in their head?”

Strika laughed at that, leaning back with folded arms. “Typical Autobot naivety. Your plan is to conquer the city while they are distracted with this, I assume?”

“On the contrary, I intend to offer the people of Cybertron a third option. A truly neutral city, where past misdeeds hold no bearing on the present and where no one is forced into line. If the war is over, then our factions should not matter. This city can be ruled in such a fashion between the three of us – an Autobot and a Decepticon, and of course myself as the tie-breaker neutral leader.”

Ultra Magnus did not state the obvious, for which Starscream was grateful because he didn't have a rebuttal for it – that if the Decepticons had won the war instead, Starscream certainly wouldn't be sat at this table talking about _neutrality_. Perhaps the discovery that some of his colleagues had been taking the law into their own hands with regards to the 'freed' Decepticons was making him think more heavily on other things he may have brushed off in the past.

“Ridiculous,” Strika growled. “This is not something Lord Megatron would ever agree with.”

“Megatron's opinions on this matter is irrelevant. This is _my_ city and the Winglord of Vos is beholden to _no one_.”

“Where is your loyalty, Seeker? We all swore the same oath!”

“We weren't going to win the war with him leading us, not while acting like that,” a bitter smile crossed Starscream's face, more emotion than he had intended to give away. “And we didn't.”

Predictably, Strika exploded to her feet, fists slamming down on the table.

“ _LIAR!_ ”

Starscream flinched down, wings snapped hard to his back. One split-second saw Megatron standing there instead of her, some trick of the light, and he had to fight the now-instinctive reaction of throwing himself on the floor and begging for mercy. It was so obvious she had to have noticed the weakness. But even when terror sliced through his frame, Starscream had never had great control over his tongue.

“You told me yourself – the Empire is broken! Every territory we conquered is gone! _I'm_ the liar? It's been _five years_ , Strika, so _WHERE **IS** HE?!_ ”

By the end of it he was stood snarling in her face, his pride stung back to life.

He could see her fuming, but she didn't have a response to that. Strika hadn't been the first, or only, Decepticon officer to notice that commands from the _Nemesis_ near the end of the war had been increasingly erratic – resources and territories they were fighting Autobot forces for the control of, instead were ordered to be destroyed. Prisoners to be executed instead of exchanged, and any Decepticon who fell behind was to be left behind.

And then there'd been nothing from any member of High Command, save for an Autobot transmission claiming Megatron had called for their surrender. Of course it had been faked, it was an Autobot trick!, but Megatron had never appeared to countermand it. Some small treacherous part of herself, during the long nights far from home stuck trying to fight increasingly unwinnable battles, whispered that Megatron would never come back – _they had been abandoned_.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn't just leave you to this fool's errand, and destroy Iacon myself.”

Ultra Magnus stood, and put an arm between the pair. His voice was tired, but his expression was hardened steel. Whether he liked this situation he'd been thrust in or not, that didn't matter much compared with keeping the peace they'd lost so much to win.

“Because the _Adamant_ is en-route and is scheduled to dock within the week. And _Herald_ is stationed only a system away, they've probably already been recalled. I don't have the relevant specifications to hand, but I believe they outgun you.”

Her expression did not change, but her gaze dropped to the wound on his side as it started to ooze energon again – he wasn't able to put enough pressure on the ruptured plating with only the one hand. It was obvious proof of Starscream's initial rambled explanation of how the Autobot Commander had come to be here. But she was still unhappy with the choice that Starscream had made for her in her absence, and that she'd been tricked into given her word to help without knowing the truths of the situation.

“Ultra Magnus' reputation of course precedes him. I expect those under my command will be treated equally. _For now_ , we are allies. But _when_ Lord Megatron returns, I will have the truth from him.”

-

Laserbeak led the way down-town to the docks, flitting back and forth in front of Bumblebee as he drove following Chief Burn's instructions. Heatwave was right behind him, Blades low in the air above them. Megatron did not have a human-friendly alt-mode and instead was keeping pace in root instead, his long legs eating the distance with an easy lope. It might have looked comical to an outside observer, but the rain, winds and darkness had already sent most of the populace indoors.

It didn't take that long for them to reach the series of piers along the shores of the town, Blades landed off to one side while he and Dani waited for the others to board the boat before continuing on out to sea. Heatwave just drove straight into the water without braking, instead shifting alts to bob back up as a speedboat as was his habit, Kade dry in his cabin.

Chief got out of Bee, who transformed back after, and lead the way to where the Burns' family boat was moored. The _Darby Ava_ was rocking to and fro even in the shelter of the harbour, the spray of waves outside could be seen kicking high above the breakwaters. While Chief got them ready to leave, Bumblebee boarded with some caution – it wasn't the first time he'd done this but even now he was still somewhat worried about the human vessel actually holding his weight. Megatron had paused at the edge of the dock and was looking at the boat with an expression that almost mirrored Bee's.

He watched Laserbeak wheel round in the air over the deck, waiting for him, gritted his teeth and stepped over the gap and onto the boat. It did list to the side more than normal when carrying the Rescue Bots, but other than that nothing went wrong. They headed out to the open ocean, following Heatwave's wake into the teeth of the storm.

-

Left on guard in the bunker, Drift was distracted. He was not _fretting_ , fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword. But he could not find his inner-peace either, and the silence ate at him until eventually he couldn't take it any more.

“I know you know who I was. Why haven't you told them yet?”

Soundwave was silent for a moment longer, more focused on the data being streamed back from Laserbeak, and he didn't move to face Drift before throwing his words back at him.

_/Why haven't you told them yet?/_

Taken aback, Drift turned away again. That wasn't something he'd ever considered before, because the two most important people in his life already knew it. And the threat of Shadow Raker still being out there somewhere ready to track him down if he ever got wind of Deadlock's location, made it too much of a gamble. 

But he was glad that Jetstorm and Slipstream were not present for that exchange, and not only because Drift had no intention of having them near Soundwave (or Megatron) any longer than was necessary. 

At least Sideswipe was unlikely to have taught them any bad habits in the space of one day, and perhaps these Rescue Bots could show them ways of doing things that he couldn't. He knew he was still too harsh, too over-protective even now. He had been too afraid of them making the mistakes he himself had made. Too afraid of failing them both as a teacher and as their chosen host and protector.

He leant against the wall, unable to properly settle, and resumed his watch of Soundwave in silence.

-

Crouched down to lessen the wind resistance, Bumblebee kept his gaze firmly on Megatron, where he was sat on the other side of the deck. He resisted the urge to check back in with the others just in case anything had happened – letting the rest of his team figure out how worried he really was wouldn't help them not to panic either.

_'Everything will be fine. Their ship will still work, I can get all the 'Cons off-planet, no one ends up killing anything, nothing goes wrong. Everything's gonna be fine, please let it be fine.'_

Even only in his head, it didn't sound convincing.

_'I wish Optimus was here...'_

If Optimus was here instead of Bee, he was sure that things would not have escalated the way they had. Optimus would have found a way to negotiate with the humans, nobody would have _died_ , the Decepticons would not be right in the middle of Griffin Rock – the one place they weren't ever supposed to know about. 

But instead Optimus had boarded the _Alchemor_ with the belief that he was leaving Earth in capable hands, and Bumblebee had let him down _so_ badly he didn't ever want Optimus to find out about it.

_'At least Megatron is still being... weird.'_

As though the other mech had somehow heard the thought, he looked over and returned Bumblebee's stare, somehow managing to look dignified while knelt on a tiny boat in the pouring rain. Laserbeak was perched on his shoulder, as perfectly still as any drone might be, save for the occasional flicking of her wing platelets to dislodge the pooling rainwater.

Bumblebee looked away, squinted ahead towards the direction of Wayward Island instead. It wasn't that far away to begin with, and they were still making good time even with the storm. The waves were still crashing up over the sides of the boat but not managing to get inside the hull, just drenching her passengers instead.

This might be the best chance he'd have to just _talk_ with Megatron, without anyone else overhearing or interfering. Chief Burns was too busy keeping the _Darby Ava_ on course, and too polite to eavesdrop anyway – so the only other person Bee needed to worry about listening in was Soundwave, who saw and heard everything that his symbiont did.

Bee decided to take it.

“What do you intend to do when we find them?”

The silence stretched out and he thought he might have to repeat himself – that maybe Megatron had not heard him because of the wind. But before he could, Megatron shifted his position, his lips curled to expose his fangs.

“I intend to find out why they have dared come to this planet, against my explicit orders that the Decepticons were to be no more.”

That statement was so laughable Bumblebee couldn't let it go unchallenged even though picking a fight wasn't what he wanted to do right now.

“Well, no, actually, you only told Starscream that. Then you disappeared. Last time I was on Cybertron, there were still skirmishes going on around the outer edges of the galaxy. I don't think anyone believed it when Ultra Magnus had it broadcast out that you'd said that.”

Megatron growled, hard to hear over the storm. “Then I will deal with that too. _No one_ fights under _my_ banner without _my_ command.”

It was obvious that having it be pointed out when he was wrong was something Megatron still did not deal with well, even after all this. 

A sudden burst of wind caused the boat to heel to one side, Bumblebee had to grab onto the railing again to prevent himself from sliding across the deck. Megatron crouched lower, turning his shoulder into the wind to create a shield for Laserbeak on his other side who was clinging on to the ridging of his plating with both of her grippers. Bumblebee noticed the small gesture, like he'd noticed every other gesture made towards Soundwave that were incongruous with how Megatron used to act.

“Do you care about him?”

The words were out of Bee's mouth before he could reconsider, his frame tensed warily. If this conversation was a careful dance between getting information and reigniting the old Megatron's anger, then that question must surely have been the equivalent of throwing a powderkeg onto a blaze.

Megatron did not respond. The unexpected question had turned his thoughts inwards.

Had it been love? Mutual respect, admiration and loyalty, a constant presence in the other's life, and yes probably on Soundwave's end, there had been love. But Megatron did not think he loved Soundwave in the way Bumblebee meant, only that he cared for Soundwave's well-being in a way he did with no one else. 

Needed him in a way he needed no one else.

Starscream had dropped into his life like an aerial bombardment. Megatron had wanted him, yes, but he had wanted to _possess_ him. Whatever respect, whatever feelings that had existed in the very beginning had been smothered under that want as the war dragged on and Starscream continued to refuse to act in a way he desired. He'd wanted the Seeker _broken_ and _pleading_ and undeniably _his_ – had gone to extreme lengths to isolate him from anyone else who might also have cared about him.

(That was something Megatron was happy to keep burying, if only his traitorous mind would not keep dredging it back up when he had nothing to keep himself busy with.)

As for Orion, there was nothing left there that wasn't tainted by Optimus Prime. 

All those whispered meetings, shared words in the dark. They had all been false and he had been tricked into providing the setup for Pax to be declared more worthy of the Matrix. That mistaken belief that a better world might have been possible without tearing down the ruling classes was the one part of Megatronus that he _hated_.

Orion...

“I was going to kill him you know. Right after he used the Matrix on Unicron. He was weak, it would have been trivial.”

Bee looked away, aware the subject of conversation had switched to something with a very real chance of enraging Megatron from whatever lucid frame of mind he was in right now. But so many unanswered questions were coming back to him – Optimus had never spoken of what had happened to him on the Nemesis, had claimed he remembered nothing but had also from that point on became quieter, almost melancholic when he thought no one was watching. 

“Yeah. We figured that before we agreed to your plan. But you didn't. What happened in there?”

Megatron just laughed.

“He called me _Megatronus_. And at that point all I could think of was 'how can I use this? How can I use Orion to hurt Optimus?' You want me to say I _care_ , and I can't. People don't change. So when you need to kill me again, _this_ time make sure it's _permanent_.”

There was nothing Bumblebee could say to that - he himself was expecting this truce not to last. Deals with Megatron never did. Instead of responding, he did a quick diagnostic check on his weapon systems, just in case. After all, even if Megatron was more different now than he believed himself to be, there were still two Seekers out there who probably weren't interested in talking.

As they approached the island Bumblebee could see the crater left by the meteor and the explosion, or rather what was left of it – the island had recolonised most of the bare soil with new shrubbery. Earth had always been rapid in its changes, at least. But below was another gap in the tree-cover, and he could see glimpses of another impact scarred into the side of the island. Definitely one, perhaps even both, of the Seekers had crashed here.

Unwilling to bring the boat too close to the rocky shore in this weather, Chief Burns instead anchored on the leeward side with enough room to spare, then stepped down into Heatwave's cabin with Kade. The firemech's speed-boat secondary alt-mode had reached the island before the family's slow fishing boat and he'd waited for them to arrive instead of making landfall without them.

The water was deep, but the shore was close enough that Bee could walk through the waves up to it, with Megatron behind him. Blades moved overhead, eager to land out of the strength of the winds, and the rest followed into the interior of the island.

They moved up the slopes carefully, skidding as the rain made the mud slide and shift underneath their weight. Blades' lights were visible through the trees – he'd landed in the clearing caused by the crash up ahead. Bumblebee was first to reach the break in the foliage, more used to moving through wilderness.

Blades had waited for Dani to hop out of his cockpit before transforming and approaching a crumpled form at the opposite end of the clearing. There was a deep furrow in the ground surrounded by splintered and rent trees where the mech had crashed. Instincts honed by a lifetime of scouting saw the details almost without consciously thinking about it and as light from a headlight reflected off of the edges of a missile launcher in the darkness, Bumblebee was already sprinting forwards, tackling Blades in the legs and knocking him to the ground.

There was a whine of heat and air over them, and instead the missile impacted on Megatron's chassis behind them. He shrugged it off and charged forwards past them, Laserbeak lifting from his shoulder into the air with her weapon systems whirring online. Bumblebee scrambled up and followed, trusting Heatwave to see to Blades and keep the humans clear.

The mech on the ground was in alt-mode, rolled onto his side, but even with the crumpled and shattered plating the silhouette of a tetrajet wasn't something Bee could ever forget. Even with his headlights on, it was too dark to tell which one it was, dark blue or dark purple being indistinguishable in the driving rain.

It wasn't a mystery for long when the next missile came from behind them instead, too quickly for the second Seeker to have circled round on foot. Bee managed to dodge that one too, more from luck as the poor footing caused him to stumble out of the way, but it passed close enough again that he felt its wake along his door-wings.

With the luxury of both _not_ being an easy to spot primary colour, and also being invulnerable, Megatron hadn't needed to slow down to avoid being hit and had already reached Thundercracker's wrecked frame. Bumblebee scrambled to catch up, to 

“He's behind-!”

But Megatron was already turning, claws flashing out to catch Skywarp round the neck as he materialised, and he hauled him up off the ground by the throat.

The Seeker snarled, trying to break his grip with one hand while the other brought his forearm missile up to Megatron's helm and fired point-blank. It should have taken his head straight off but it did nothing except irritate Megatron further. 

It had been thousands of years since Skywarp had seen his leader face-to-face – that coupled with Unicron's altering of his frame meant that Skywarp didn't actually recognise him, and certainly didn't understand how he wasn't harmed. Both hands were clawing at Megatron's arm now, frantically trying to get away. With the main energon line to his brain module being choked shut he couldn't think clearly through the panic enough to warp away again.

 _Starscream_ had always reacted the same way: anger and indignation of being caught giving way to terror, fear, begging for his _miserable_ life – on and on and maybe that wretched creature would finally be _**silent**_ if he only gripped him hard enough and _SQUEEZED-_

“-gatron that is _enough!_ ” And there was a pressure on his arm and it was Bumblebee pulling his arm back down, the Autobot's presence pulling him back. “That's enough. Put him down.”

His hand opened stiffly, and Megatron stepped away while Skywarp dropped unceremoniously to the ground, rubbing at his clenched neck-cables. Laserbeak looped around them, sending her visual feed of the scene back to Soundwave, then alighted back on Megatron's pauldron, her visor bright.

Skywarp watched her circle, looked Megatron up and down, looked back to the symbiont that Soundwave would never leave behind, would never trust to _anyone_ other than the leader of the Decepticons. As his gaze flicked faster and faster between Laserbeak, Megatron's face, and the spot on his chassis where the Decepticon logo should have been, Skywarp's wings clamped down as low as he could in horrified realisation of _who_ exactly he'd just tried to shoot in the face.

_«L-Lord Megatron! You're looking- uhhh- still alive?»_

Somehow it gave Megatron pause to hear Cybertronian again. Without even thinking about it he'd been talking in native human ever since returning to Earth, and before that he hadn't exactly had any company since the end of the war. He scowled down at the hapless Seeker and responded in kind, annoyed with himself and more than willing to take it out on someone else (if only verbally).

_«Explain yourselves. **Now.** »_

The Seeker's story came out in stops and starts, with Skywarp rambling far more than normal – fear of punishment sent him on tangents in attempts to justify decisions he hadn't personally made. Watching them, and listening to Megatron's increasingly sharp comments, Bumblebee could see the ex-warlord was backsliding.

In the past few days he'd attempted to be courteous, had accorded Bumblebee his respect. But he didn't respect Skywarp, and Skywarp he still saw as a subordinate, just another incompetent under his command and one that constantly reminded him of Starscream just by existing. It didn't help that every time Megatron moved, even just to shift his weight on the uneven ground, Skywarp flinched in anticipation – Bee wondered if the other Seekers had known about Starscream's poor treatment by their leader, or if Decepticon punishment was always so physical?

A safe distance behind them, with their humans once again protected in their cabins, Heatwave and Blades watching too. Heatwave was listening in to Skywarp's story, but Blades was quiet and still half crouched behind his team-leader's frame. It made it so that Dani couldn't see anything but Heatwave's back, but she was more interested in the health of her 'bot partner instead anyway. Their conversation was silent to everyone outside of Blades' cockpit as he was speaking only on the screen for his holo avatar. 

Heatwave let him cling onto his plating, privately he was happy to allow it. If it hadn't been for Bumblebee, Blades might have been offlined. But if it hadn't been for Bumblebee, they wouldn't _be_ right here in the first place. He hid his emotions with a struggle, and focused on translating for Kade and the Chief.

“Urgh, his accent is awful. He said their ship was attacked and they were shot down, then he _'panicked and they ended up here'_. Not sure what he means exactly...”

Chief nodded, more focused on the body-language on display, and pulled at the passenger door latch. It refused to budge.

“...Heatwave open the door.”

“...”

“Dad are you serious? That is _not_ a 'we come in peace' alien robot!” Kade joined in, he still had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel in front of him. 

“That's why we need to talk to them, son. Let them know we don't mean them any harm, and we're happy to help with any injuries.”

After a moment, Heatwave did open Chief's door and helped to lower him down to the ground, but he still protested it.

“It's not _safe_.”

Chief Burns reached up and patted a digit comfortingly. 

“I'll be fine with Bumblebee. You keep an eye on Blades, alright?”

He made his way across the churned up ground to where Bumblebee was talking Megatron back – Bee had also decided that this wasn't helping in general, and berating Skywarp wasn't helping Thundercracker in particular. From what he could tell from a distance, that crash looked bad. 

“How about I take it from here? This isn't important right now, we can get the full story back when we're out of the weather.”

Megatron didn't look at him when he spoke, but he did step backwards to give Bee more room. Skywarp watched their brief interaction with narrowed optics.

The Seeker might not understand the language used but he wasn't that stupid. And Skywarp had many faults but he'd always been _loyal_ – he didn't look like he was taking the sight of Megatron following Bumblebee's orders all that well.

_«I don't have to say anything to you, **bug**.» _

Ignoring the insult, Bee crouched down next to where he was sat so that they could talk face-to-face. But he still kept a good grip on his weapon, because he wasn't that stupid either.

 _«You do if you want your friend over there to see a medic.»_

The implied threat that his wingmate might not just be given medical attention just because they were captured by Autobots was enough to make him yield. Skywarp looked down, wings lowering again as he tried to appear more unthreatening. 

_«We only came here 'cause the_ Victory _picked up something from Soundwave from this stupid planet, and we figured he might know where Starscream is.»_

_«Where's your ship now?»_

_«Edge of the solar system somewhere, we took a shuttle in. Supposed to be quick, in and out, you know? That's what TC said.»_

Bee nodded at Chief Burns as he arrived, and put a hand out over him to help shield him from the rain. A nice gesture, but everyone was long soaked through. Skywarp watched them curiously – before today he had never even heard of a human before.

_«Where is Screamer anyway?»_

The question was quiet, but Bee was close enough to hear it anyway. He wished he could answer it, but no one had seen or heard anything from Starscream since that day by the Well of AllSparks. It was probable the Seeker was offline by now.

_«I don't know. I'm sorry.»_

Skywarp just ignored him, still hunched inwards. Switching back to English, Bee looked down to Chief Burns.

“We can wrap things up here. The faster we get back the better, I think.”

“And you've told them that they'll be safe here?”

It took a moment for Bee to realise that he wasn't making a joke.

“What do you mean?”

“Well from over there, it just seemed like Megatron might have a problem with him, is all.”

A snarl from behind them was a reminder that Megatron was still listening. 

“I only have a 'problem', human, with insubordination.”

“Is that what they're calling it these days?”

Skywarp watched the pair worriedly, knowing that the conversation was probably still about him and that Lord Megatron did not take fools, or back-chat, lightly. Bumblebee stood, shifting his grip on his weapon. He moved more between them, systems primed to react however was necessary, but still wanting to try to defuse the sudden situation with words instead.

“There is no problem. Right?”

But Chief Burns had been a member of the police force for his entire career, had been called out to his share of domestic violence incidents, and wasn't inclined to be charitable.

“And what about that other one, Soundwave? Do you hit him too, is that why he hides his face?”

Megatron lunged forwards at the accusations, face twisting in rage. It was an expression Bumblebee was more than familiar with from the other side of a battlefield and he moved like lightning, blade of his weapon at Megatron's throat.

“Back down. **Now**.”

The moment was brief, with them both frozen in place and glaring at each other. But it was Megatron who dropped his gaze first, away from the burning blue optics that held the same message they'd had the day the warlord had died.

_I am no longer afraid of you_

He could fight, and prove to himself he was the hypocrite he'd always been. Or he could remove himself from this situation because if he didn't he was going to turn that human into _paste_. Megatron spat a Tarnian curse at Bumblebee, took two steps back to the edge of the clearing, then was in the air and roaring upwards with his hatred at boiling point. 

Bumblebee watched him go out of sight beyond the tree-line, and shuttered his optics. Just five minutes. He wanted just _five minutes_ where he didn't feel like screaming from the frustration of his life right now.

But he'd learnt during the war to be good at compartmentalising his feelings and, after re-settling flared plating, he re-sheathed the sword and took charge of the situation again. Laserbeak was drifting side to side in the air, watching him back. Her faceplates could not express emotions but she looked agitated and worried – who knew how Soundwave would take this. Skywarp was half-stood, had been ready to either fight or flee for his own life. Chief Burns was unrepentant, but honestly Bumblebee didn't blame him. 

“I'm taking both of them into custody. They're not under arrest right now, but that depends on behaviour.”

Chief nodded his agreement. “The sooner we get out of this storm the better.”

Bumblebee pushed Skywarp back down into a sitting position with an admonishment not to move, clicked a pair of stasis-cuffs round his wrists (he had changed the settings to block Skywarp's outlier ability before they had even left the firehouse), and picked his way into the furrow of mud and shattered trees towards Thundercracker's downed form.

He tried to roll the tetrajet back over onto his belly so he could get a better look at the damage caused by the crash, but the Seeker was wedged too much into the ground and Bee couldn't lift him by himself. Skywarp was hissing threats from where he was sat, but made to attempt to get up and stop him. Underneath the torrent of Vosian, he was even more worried about his partner than Bee was.

With the situation more calm both Rescue Bots moved in to help where they could. Heatwave paused to let Chief Burns back in out of the weather before standing guard over Skywarp, and Blades hesitantly gave Bumblebee a hand pulling Thundercracker out of his crater, flinching back every time he thought the Seeker was about to move.

Once free of the ground and debris jamming up his transformation sequence, Thundercracker's plating heaved and lifted and he transformed back automatically, frame purging with the severe strain it put on him, before passing out back into stasis-lock without ever even standing up. The purged energon glowed a sickly blue in the dark where it was spattered over his frame and mixed with further energon lost from where he'd been injured. Bumblebee hefted him up into his arms. He knew that moving him may injure him further, but there wasn't an alternative.

As they carried the Seeker back up to the others, Skywarp rattled his wings threateningly and growled, his gaze locked onto the bleeding crumpled plating along Thundercracker's side.

_«Don't drop him! You stupid **dirtlicker**!»_

That was easier said than done, Thundercracker was as broad-shouldered as Bee and taller to boot, and it was hard getting up the slope again in the storm without a hand to spare, even with Blades helping.

 _«Sit still!»_ Bumblebee snapped back, carefully laid the Seeker back down next to his trine-mate while keeping the injured areas elevated. He had enough supplies in his subspace for a rudimentary field patch on the worst wounds but Thundercracker needed real medical attention and Fixit was the only one on Earth even remotely close to that.

More for peace of mind rather than any belief it would be needed, he snapped his other pair of cuffs onto lax blue wrists, then moved aside to both discuss the matter with Heatwave and give Skywarp a little bit of time to check on his mate for himself.

-

It was shaping up to be a long evening for Drift, but for Soundwave it was going far faster than he wanted. Even though Megatron had fled - left Laserbeak alone among Autobots - he would return soon. Soundwave could hear him out there under the waves, and he was traitorously dreading his lord's return.

It had been easier before, during the war, to make excuses for Megatron's behaviour. To pretend that when they had peace he would go back to being how he always was, how Megatronus had been when they had first met.

But now, that hadn't happened. Now Megatron was actually _trying_ to act as he had, but it was still an act and it was only further highlighting how different he was, right down to his empty frame. Soundwave couldn't imagine to himself how different things were going to be any more, and he was worried that five years solitude in the Shadowzone had irreversibly damaged his ability to cope.

 _That_ was sending such fear and distress through his spark he was only barely able to shield from Laserbeak, because if Soundwave ever decided that following Megatron had been a mistake, he would have to admit to himself that everyone he'd lost had been for nothing.

-

It was a lot slower of a pace back down through the woods to the shoreline, now that they had one Seeker to carry, and another who had decided to be difficult. But they ignored Skywarp's protests and kept their conversation in English so he wouldn't understand what they were discussing. 

It wouldn't last – Skywarp had a translator chip just like any other Cybertronian, and given a day or too with access to the language he would quickly pick it up. If he could be bothered to run the program anyway. Bee was cautiously hopeful that he wouldn't, but knew it was unlikely – his frustration at not understanding them was getting very obvious very quickly, even if partially that was to hide his panic over Thundercracker's possibility of recovery.

To get everyone back in one trip, they would need to lash Thundercracker's frame to the top of Heatwave's boat mode – he had to be taken to Fixit as fast as possible, and the _Darby Ava_ 's motor was just too slow to get him there in time. A lot of time had already been wasted, and it was time the Seeker didn't have a lot of to spare.

Bumblebee gave a final check that the ropes were secure, and the rudimentary welding patches were holding, and Heatwave drifted himself close enough their frames bumped together so that they could talk quietly.

“And Megatron?”

“Will be dealt with. I promise you.”

“He better be. Griffin Rock might know about us but the rest of this planet doesn't, and I like it that way.”

Bee nodded. In truth, he had no idea what to do about Megatron. Hopefully Soundwave had an idea of where he was right now. Hopefully that wasn't also where a human city was.

Heatwave set off with a roar, cutting across the surface of the waves at speed, and Bee turned to the next problem – getting Skywarp onto the boat. Chief Burns had brought her in as close as possible, but the Seeker still needed to wade out into waist-high waves to get on and he didn't trust the water.

He didn't trust Bee either when he explained what needed to happen, but when Blades did so to show him how to get up the side without tipping the boat over, for some reason he did allow the rotary to help him up. Bee was too tired to question it.

He carefully climbed up after them, a little unhappy that the Seeker had sat himself next to Blades. Of course they couldn't trust Skywarp to fly himself back to Griffin Rock, and the storm was bad enough now that neither Dani nor Blades wanted to risk flying back themselves – especially not after their brief brush with death earlier. But that didn't mean that Bumblebee had to like it.

_«Behave.»_

Instead, Skywarp sneered back and drew a talon across his throat, directly over his voice box. Bee didn't respond and stepped past him to sit on the other side of the deck to counter-balance their weight on the boat.

Blades leaned worriedly towards him.

“What did he mean by that?!”

“It's nothing, he's just being obnoxious. Ignore him.”

He didn't want to give the real reason, didn't want Blades to think differently of him. The Rescue Bots only knew the war as some distant thing with the Autobots winning as a matter of course. Blades only knew the basics of his past – he had been Optimus' scout, his voice-box had been damaged in a battle and now it was fixed. Bee wanted to keep it that way. The war might be over but he still wanted to protect them from it. And it hadn't been Megatron personally that had first broken his cover at Tyger Pax.

Annoyed that no one was rising to his bait, Skywarp went back to fidgeting though it was difficult in the stasis-cuffs. He didn't want any Autobots to know how worried he was, even if one of them was sensible enough to pick a flight-frame despite Autobot discrimination. 

The ride back to Griffin Rock was a quiet one.

-

Back in the Golden Age, the journey from Nyon to Iacon took multiple days for an average ground-frame and wound through many other city-states on the way. Now, thanks to the almost total lack of traffic it was roughly six hours. 

Prowl made it in four, passing through wreckage and clusters of rebuilding city-centres as he went. Though he had a high-performance speed frame, it was built more for the chase than long-distance endurance but he forced himself past maintenance alerts and fuel warnings – something the war had accustomed him to – and entered Iacon a little after dawn. The storm was mostly past by now, moving over Tarn towards Vos.

Instead of finding somewhere to refuel, he went straight to the rebuilt Primal Basilica to report to the Council Member in charge of overseeing the Enforcers – Councillor Ratbat.

The threat of an impending Decepticon invasion had spread panic through the staff – they were all too busy to check the identity of a mech in Enforcer colours who looked like he knew where he was going. It suited Prowl fine, he felt had no need to explain himself to strangers and he didn't need directions to Ratbat's office – he'd been pulled in there multiple times on various pretexts before the Councillor had just transferred him to a post out of the city instead.

When he strode through the door, said Councillor was busy flicking between two datapads while arguing with someone over the room comm system. He didn't immediately notice someone else was in the room with him, and he startled badly when he recognised Prowl.

“ _Primus_ where did you come from?! Shut the door – did anyone see you come in?”

Prowl did so, and Ratbat swiftly hung up on whoever he'd been yelling at. They stared at each other, then Ratbat switched off his datapads and slid them into a drawer. He still looked extremely rattled, of which Prowl took a mental note – thanks to his longtime habit of feeding data from conversations into his battle-computer while he was still having them. It stemmed from years of his function as an Enforcer performing interrogations, and even though he'd come with the intention of offering his aid Ratbat's reactions were starting to flag up as suspicious on his old systems. 

He ignored them – anyone might be jumpy if someone walked into their office unannounced, he couldn't keep holding himself as a baseline standard for command staff, he'd been working on that.

He waited for any further greeting or requests for an explanation, and when none were forthcoming he simply began explaining anyway.

“We experienced a signal hi-jacking on the main newscast frequencies, source unconfirmed but believed to be Decepticon Starscream. I set out immediately and arrived as fast as was possible.”

Ratbat just stared at him, like he was struggling to process that.

“Why?”

The unexpected, improbable response threatened to derail his thought processes. Prowl stared back, regaining control of the more irrational part of himself.

“To deal with the situation. To offer my assistance.”

But Ratbat was already watching him with suspicion. He paced back and forth behind his desk, then looked like he'd decided something, and came round the side of it to stand next to Prowl to confirm that the door was properly shut.

“You know, you've always been a troublemaker.”

_'What?'_

“I am not 'making trouble' – I believe this this planet may be on the verge of another crisis. Sir.”

This was not how he'd initially projected this conversation would go. His tactical systems were fully online now as his battle-computer demanded more resources.

It was starting to build up possibilities he hadn't previously considered. Uneasy, he tried opening a comm to Bluestreak just to check he was still there - a habit they'd both had ever since Prowl had pulled the youngling out of the rubble - but it went straight to recorded messages. A second attempt had the same result. But Bluestreak _always_ responded when Prowl commed him – in turn Prowl _always_ responded to Blue, no matter what they were doing or where either of them were.

“No. Some random communication-frame decides to pull a prank, and you come running in here accusing me-”

_'What is happening?'_

“With all due respect, sir, no one else appears to consider this a 'prank'.”

“Do not _interrupt me_.”

Ratbat moved forwards and snarled that in his face. Prowl stepped backwards to maintain their previous distance. He manually prevented his frame's weapon systems from activating – he couldn't spare the resources to run them, he wasn't here to fight!

“...This is because I used to be a Decepticon, isn't it! Just because you can't accept that your 'partner' is behind bars and I'm not, you're- what is this, blackmail?! This is discrimination!”

“I'm not- this doesn't have anything to do with Jazz! There are _eyewitness reports_ of a Decepticon frigate entering the atmosphere two hours ago.”

_'Why is this happening I don't understand?'_

The simulations were running on most of his processing power, allowing his emotional sub-cortex to take over higher functions would cause a deadlock and potentially a systems crash, so he began re-routing power from it into the battle-computer instead. But he kept a few lines open, and tried Bluestreak again. This time he left a message.

_-It's Prowl-_

Fuel and heat warning started to build up again. Prowl ignored them – he could not refuel at this moment, and he could not increase his fan-speeds or vents without Ratbat noticing. It wasn't anything he wasn't used to. He was _fine_.

He cancelled another alert warning that he was going to burn something out. He switched his weapons off again. He didn't notice Ratbat watching him closely.

“It's very convenient for you to happen to drop by, even though this city is no longer your jurisdiction, so soon after the unfortunate attack on Councillor Ultra Magnus. _Perhaps_ you should account for your whereabouts.”

_'Ultra Magnus? What happened to Ultra Magnus? What?'_

He forced his voice box back under control before it responded automatically, teeth gritted. 

“You are... You are deflecting-”

“ **Or** \- or maybe it's _you_ who's working with Starscream, trying to re-instate a... a military dictatorship!”

Almost before he'd finished speaking the ludicrous accusation, Prowl pounced on it. Such a statement could only be a product of a guilty conscious.

It would be more obvious to a non-Praxian if he cut power to his optics so he deactivated his door-wing sensory array instead and re-routed the freed processor power to his battle-computer, and forced it to run more tandem processes. To stop them from sagging he locked them in their default resting position, though it was a notch lower than Prowl's own preferred angle.

_-Bluestreak, pick up-_

Running his battle-computer at such a capacity was dangerous, especially in the presence of an enemy and with no back-up but Prowl no longer had the spare capacity to care and he didn't feel anything except the data points that his preferred back-up, Jazz, was not present (100%), likely to be offline (92.865%), and that pulling any more power from his system would increase the likelihood of a full-frame crash (62.479% and rising).

But in all that, he hadn't lost the thread of the conversation – Ratbat was still blustering, still appearing to cover his mistake, and Prowl cut him off mid-sentence.

“Perhaps someone _is_ working with Starscream. Someone who hasn't been having their way in the Council lately, someone who didn't want Spec-Ops interfering in their business-”

The Councillor's fingertips flinched at that last part, Prowl zeroed in on that line of calculations and discarded all his other variables. It was getting harder to keep focused as his rapidly over-heating frame kept trying to disable his battle-computer out of self-preservation, but he was desperate, he _needed_ to know what happened to Jazz!

100% chance that Jazz was offline, 43.699% that he had died in this very room, 89.675% of a crash.

_-Bluestreak it's me **answer your comm** -_

Old, overprotective lines of code wouldn't stop running their own calculations and clogging up his processing trees. 67.314% that Bluestreak was not answering because he was injured. 59.985% because he was offline.

Though neither would admit it, their relationship bordered on co-dependent at the best of times - just as Bluestreak had been unable to accept that Prowl wanted him to stay behind, Prowl did not consider that he might actually be being deliberately ignored and instead came to the conclusion that Blue was being targetted while he wasn't there.

He didn't notice Ratbat removing something from under his desk, clouds of static were shifting through his visual feed. Prowl's emotional sub-cortex was struggling to force itself back to full power, and his frame couldn't supply enough for both itself and his battle-computer. 

Worry about Jazz, stark _terror_ for Blue's safety, had loosened his grip on himself enough that his frame forced his battle-computer off before it fatally over-heated. All the power he'd been siphoning out of other systems abruptly reversed and the backlash was enough to trigger a seizure. 

The last he remembered was his locked frame tumbling backwards and the blurred form of Ratbat's hand clicking some kind of device onto his forehead.

_-Blue I'm sorry-_

-

The urge to fly so fast he might escape himself was strong. But Megatron still possessed enough sense to attempt to avoid human detection, so he pitched himself into the ocean instead, engines churning the water as he sank out of sight.

He transformed as he sank to land on his feet at the bottom of the ocean with a muted _clunk_. It wasn't as dark as he remembered the first time being – this was a comparatively shallow area of the Earth's seas.

The pressure of the water had as much effect as the void of space but he remembered how it had felt on his plating in the moments before his death when it had flooded his ruptured spark-chamber after falling from the Omega Lock.

The last time he'd been submerged like this, he'd been dead. That thought didn't help his mood in any matter.

The water had seeped through his plating once more, saturating his frame, but it no longer had any affect on his frame-functions, and he reared a fist back and slammed it into a rocky outcropping in front of him.

His claws tore through the rock as if it wasn't there.

It was profoundly unsatisfying.

Megatron was _sure_ he just heard Starscream laughing at him, and he spun round lashing out at another pillar of rock.

_This wretched frame!_

Only able to react with hate, because hate was all Unicron had left of him, Megatron had forced himself out of the situation instead. Stubborn spite had given him the strength to do so because he knew that if Unicron were present He would have wanted the humans dead. 

But it also meant he was unable to defend himself against such an insult both to himself and to Soundwave. Megatron stomped along, organic aquatic creatures fleeing before him. His anger still seethed, he had no idea where he was going, he had abandoned Laserbeak to the Autobots, he _did not **care**_.

Forcing his empty chest-plating open, heedless of the water filling it, Megatron reached a hand inside as if he might find a spark there. Of course there was nothing. Of course his spark was snuffed, of course he had been denied a warrior's death. He had been denied the peace of the All-Spark.

_'And you never did anything to deserve **that** , I'm sure.'_

That unwanted thought only spurred his rage further until it was enough to choke on and Megatron gave into it. He tipped his head back and _screamed_ , howling out all the frustrations and hatred he couldn't give words to.

His emotions were a white hot agony burning harder and harder until he thought he might burst with the weight of it. He could live as a harbinger of Unicron if he submitted, no need to deal with Autobots or humans.

Fans sputtered then roared to life, churning the waters as trapped air was forced out of his vents and bubbled away. The remnants of long-congealed energon began to creep down fuel-lines and the heart of his engine starting began to boil the water as well.

There – just on the edge of his clawtips – a faint prickling, burning sensation. As his frame teetered on the edge of life fuelled by the hatred of a fallen god, an echo of Megatron's spark flickered briefly in its chamber.

It lasted only mere seconds before he slumped to his knees, drained an silent. Perhaps it had all been in his imagination, after all. No matter how he hated this situation he was in, to submit to Unicron was to admit defeat and that was something Megatron could never do. It would have to be a good enough reason because he knew now that not even Soundwave was enough to sway him any more.

Nothing was enough any more.

Megatron let himself sag backwards, staring up at the faint moonlight filtering down from above.

All his hate, the driving force of his life, was gone as swiftly as it had boiled over.

It left only that now-familiar void in himself, an accusing silence. His life should have been better than this. It should have meant something.

Every decision he'd made in the moment had felt the correct choice. All through the war he never saw how much he'd twisted himself, deluded himself that he had all the answers. Everything he'd done he could justify. There was no point of change, no start point he could look at and think _'this is the moment where I went insane'_ \- even the decision to thrust a shard of Dark Energon directly into his spark chamber had been the end-result of the madness rather than a cause.

With Dark Energon he had desecrated Cybertron's restless dead. He had nearly thrown the entire Cause away on Unicron's whim, but it had been his choice to do so and his choice to instead enlist Prime to defeat the god instead because he could not do it himself. He had lost himself long before he had lost the war.

_'Everything I have done has been flawed because it was I that did them. Anything I continue to do so must have the same flaw.'_

What he wanted to continue to do was stay in this isolation. Where was the flaw there?

Soundwave appeared in his mind unbidden. Always at his side, even when not present. The thought should have made him laugh. It had been a joke once. 

“I have broken so many oaths, what is one more?”

_'...then what was the point of returning in the first place?'_

Better to have never come back in the first place, than to leave again. If he hadn't, Soundwave would probably have slipped into the AllSpark by now. Would that have been preferable?

He'd spent that time after the war believing that his Decepticons had all been cut down. Why should it matter that there were some still out there, still fighting just because they believed in what he had told them?

_'Few things of value come without a price.'_

Megatron heaved himself up on his feet, and began the long trudge along the ocean floor back to Griffin Rock.

-

In a secret facility, alarms were sounding. The signal they'd tracked to the Eastern Seaboard of the United States had reappeared once more – now further north in the shores of the Atlantic. It was met with a desperate flurry of activity to grab the coordinates before the signal corrupted itself again, or the Skywatch satellite network suffered another obscure computer error that had been plaguing them over the past year or so.

“UCO-001 is back!”

“Tracking now... we have a lock!”

The senior Intelligence Officer leant forwards to examine the screens, the other people in the room clustering round. 

“Good work. Inform the General we have a clean lock, and to ready Project Safeguard.”

One of the technicians though, had remained seated, and he tilted the screen of his Macbook to obscure the phone he'd slid out of his pocket and started texting.
    
    
    [Hey
    Massive problem
    M signal back
    3 miles off coast of maine]
    
    [fuck
    can u redirect?]
    
    [Strong enough for system lock
    Can't hide this one - everyone seen location
    Sorry]
    
    [not ur fault
    got bryce breathing down my neck rn re crown city need sometihng 2 say]
    
    [Advanced cloaking??? Try & make it believable
    I'll do my best here]
    
    [ty raf]
    
    
    
    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (don't worry he's not dead yet)  
>  
> 
> ANYWAY YES HELLO shoutout to anyone still reading this! holy shit I am so sorry this has been over a year.
> 
> I am having a lot of scoping issues with this thing, I think I need to start cutting some plot threads because it feels like this is 3 fics in one sometimes, and I also have another fic I am trying to keep updated at the same time. So same excuse - I don't know how long the next chapter will take, I'm thinking of making them shorter but I don't know if that would make it faster tbh  
> Arcee was supposed to be in this chapter but I've reshuffled some stuff & she's in next chapter (this time I promise)
> 
> Also I got a bit down about this fic, I guess it feels a bit weird now that there's an actual season 3? Are people still interested in this? If the Stunticons show up on Cybertron in 4-5 chapters & it's nothing to do with the actual canon ones, do you care? I'd assumed because Breakdown was in TFP the rest of them weren't gonna show up so I planned a sideplot bit with them & whoops (Wildbreak looks super cute though)
> 
> Thank you all so much for your patience, I have been re-reading the comments on the last chapter a lot to keep motivated! You're all wonderful ♥


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